


Repairs

by Knitzkampf



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Counseling, F/M, Family, Friendship, Leia Organa is a Rebel, OC, Romance, Seven Stages of Grief, she's a princess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 82,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knitzkampf/pseuds/Knitzkampf
Summary: There are numbers: millions of untold dead, seven stages of grief, and one Princess of Alderaan. An AU of Leia Organa's journey from sympathizer/activist to Rebel Leader. Begins at the end of A New Hope.





	1. Prologue

Notes of Dr. Renzlatl

 

Comprehensive Behavioral Assessment

Patient 20326

Species:Human

Gender: Female 

Patient was detained by Imperial authority and underwent interrogation and torture before escaping. Newly enlisted, not ranked.

Arrived without appointment. Not in uniform. Dress stained but not wrinkled. She smells clean. Hair well-tended, styled in two severe buns that cover her ears.

Age: 19. Background of privilege, wealth and education. No doubt exceptional. Resume includes advanced degrees in philosophy and political science with concentrations in history and galactic geography.

In manner she displays few outward signs of recent trauma. No visible scars. No wringing of hands or making fists. Hands remain gently clasped. Eye contact excellent. She is polite, and interested in the environment she comes into contact with.

Personal note: This will either be simple or difficult.


	2. Observations, I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction continues...

Observations, I

_Before you die, kiss the sky. After the battle, see Renzatl!_

The refrain followed her when the men saw her. At playful times. When they marched down the corridor past her office after mess.

There was time to play in war. That was one of the first things Dr. Renzatl had learned in her thirty years as a psychotherapist.

She was still in university, at Coruscant, when the Empire bombed Corellia. Her adopted city and planet, her government as well, had attacked her homeworld.

It had taken weeks to get home. To find her neighborhood in rubble, to see the list of all the missing, to visit the children in the orphanage.

While they waited to talk to her- really while she needed the time to get to each one; they weren't waiting- they played with dolls and played skipping games. Then they would tell her, quite calmly, how they were at breakfast when the sky started whistling, and they would list everyone they no longer saw, and tell her, "my brother is under my house."

It was usually not just a brother, but also a parent, or both, cousin, grandparent, friend, teacher... the list went on and on. They had nightmares, or they threw stones, and they were sad, but if you gave them a toy, they played.

The experience taught her a number of things: one, that beings, especially children, are resilient, like elastic, but you have to get to them in time; two, that a heart can break but a body can live anywhere; three, that a leader she wanted to believe in had failed her utterly; and four, that she would devote her life to healing cities, neighborhoods and children who continued to bear scars long after the rubble was cleaned.

Yes, after the battle, see Renzatl. The men on Yavin 4 knew why she was here. Death followed a battle.

Dr. Renzatl had arrived on Yavin 4 two weeks ago. She was dispatched by Mon Mothma, but not transferred, so she wouldn't be staying.

Every day more and more ships arrived. The sky, so blue and calm, screamed with the roar of X- and Y-Wings, drilling day and night. It was obvious they were gearing up for a big battle. No one said as much, but they didn't have to.

The men knew, just as she knew, that some, maybe many, would "kiss the sky." The euphemism was appropriate for pilots, but no one knew who it would be. Superstitions and rituals arose. Don't shave, don't remove your socks. Don't befriend anyone from TRAD Division; don't even look her in the eye.

There is nothing wrong with dying, but for some reason there is everything wrong with surviving and being haunted by death. No- not even that is correct. It is having to admit it. _After the battle, see Renzatl._ But dying is preferable. Because if one follows death, if one walks in its wake, it eclipses all else. And for some reason, what should be a part of life- inescapable, inevitable- becomes something to be ashamed of.

Yavin 4 is a mysterious place. Dr. Renzatl knew she wouldn't be busy until afterward, so she took the time to explore. This current group of humans, the Rebel Alliance, was not the first to inhabit the moon. Somehow it is found and then lost, then found again. The base encompassed large stone buildings, shaped like squat pyramids. These were the few relics left of the Massassi. Historians and archaeologists still guess at the purpose of the civilization here, why it arose and why it just as suddenly seemed to vanish. Was it a village? A ceremonial place of worship?

The stone for the buildings was quarried from a vein on the other side of the moon. How it was brought was still unknown. The pyramids, commonly referred to as temples, are both large and small. Dr. Renzatl wandered through them all.

Some contained rooms like theaters. Some rooms had very low ceilings one had to hunch over in order to enter, while others soared majestically upward, lit by holes in the stone which form windows. Most were paved stone floors but there was one large space in a smaller pyramid that had a dirt floor with an opening at the peak of the roof. Dr. Renzatl had read about it. Some theorized this was a storage chamber. Others believed it was a ceremonial room, perhaps where sacrifices took place. Still more prescribed to the idea it was the functional kitchen for the village.

The fourth moon breathed with life, unlike the gas planet it orbited. The air was hot and humid, the trees grew without interruption and were tall and thin and covered with vines. It was usually quite noisy, as she had seen a great number of birds and mammals in the trees, but their calls were drowned out by the starfighters. The earth was curious: parts of the soil, if one dared call it that, were viscous.

The base suffered a scare when a group of the pilots were playing ball in a clearing, and two unexpectedly stepped into the wet mud and could not free themselves. Some effort had gone into carving out trails for personal safety. A crude sign marked the spot, 'Welcome to Sandsucker Pond. Leave your ID here so we know who you were.'

Humor joins the battle as well.

The men stayed away from Dr. Renzatl and she from them until after Alderaan was destroyed. On that terrible day, General Dodonna suspended all training exercises, and had the men gather in the briefing theater. He delivered the news first privately to those who called Alderaan their homeworld, and then introduced the doctor to the body at large. They spent the entire day in the theater. It was an order; General Dodonna let no one leave.

Dr. Renzatl addressed the group. Pray, she told them. Cry. Rail. Know we will fight. Whatever you do, be together. Help each other.

For many hours, she sat alone on a stone slab bench and made good use of the time by filling out mandatory CBA forms for the Alderaani pilots. The theater was basically quiet. Someone was singing, a song of lament in a language she did not understand, but its meaning was clear. The doctor looked around, and grown men were wiping their noses on their sleeves, their bodies were hunched, but as they sat together their shoulders touched.

General Dodonna had it right, Dr. Renzatl considered, thinking of her early lessons on Corellia years ago. Something so huge as Alderaan; the cruel nature of what happened, changed everything. She thought she was there to work, but as the emotion in the room washed over her, she realized she had to be part of the human experience as well, or how could she be of help later?

Love is part of war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Renzatl will appear infrequently. So don't worry; the story truly begins with Leia's entrance next installment.


	3. Shock, I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment in time...

Shock, I

   
The crash was unexpected. She'd been warned- Captain Solo had tried- she should have known, but to watch herself empty, like the room... 

Luke was swept away, and he would be a pilot and a hero, maybe even a Jedi, and she only stood on a makeshift stage, in a borrowed dress and borrowed hose, bedecked with jewelry that appeared out of nowhere. Thank the goddesses leadership stopped talking to her, because she couldn't make her eyes smile anymore, she couldn't move her lips, and all they kept saying to her was her father, her father, her father.

She wasn't borrowed. Her father would never loan her out like that. It seemed so long ago, but just days ago, she had- it was she who had done it, and the journey was a complete surprise, even as she lived it- she had suggested herself.

She borrowed her own presence, for them. Borrowed it from something, and... she couldn't give it back. 

Her smile drained, her hand almost lifted, to call after Luke, beseech him, _may I come with you?_ Because... The joyful crowd that hoisted him on their shoulders told her he had someone, and he always would. Because she knew where he was going.

Luke had the future, and she would just go on, like the captain probably, only he didn't seem to mind going nowhere. She had no past now to fall back on. No Alderaan, where she had been a princess and a daughter and a senator. No Death Star, where she had been a prisoner and a threat.

They hadn't debriefed her. Hadn't even offered a medical scan, after she had told the captain she would wait, theirs was probably so much better, newer, accurate. Declined his, because she was… She winced a little, because she had all but said he was not enough… she was... More than needing the pity or concern of some hotshot pilot. More than a rescued Princess with a reward fund. She had the plans. She was on a mission. She was important.

If you wanted the past, she could give it to you. Describe, in heartbreaking clarity, the moment she offered herself up, how her father's posture changed, the angle of the sunlight on the brocade tablecloth, her voice confident and oblivious, "I can take the plans," the little butterfly who wanted in, its little wings beating against the windowpane.

"Leia." How the cuff of her father's sleeve rode up, exposing the Organa fleur di lis links of his dress shirt as he placed his elbows on the table, carefully interlocking his fingers.

His worry, the _danger_  of what she proposed, danger that came true, danger that she extended to her homeworld, to everything she was, and to the Death Star.

Princess Leia and the butterfly, allured by the promise of something. She waited on the Death Star, for death or her father, who would come because he hadn't wanted her to go.

But he hadn't come. Was he still sitting at the table with the lovely brocade cloth? Instead it was Luke who came, but no one sent him. He took her with him, and together they allowed the Death Star to come between the sun and moon, an eclipse. "Princess Leia brought the plans," she heard pilots call back and forth excitedly as they readied for battle, or "Princess Leia brought the Death Star."

She didn't want accolades; that's not what she meant, standing right now alone on a stage; not credit, but some kind of acknowledgment. Didn't they see she didn't only provide the plans? She had lived them, bled them, died?

The little butterfly… Leia needed big breaths; her eyes were full and fat. It was small, a nondescript color really; kind of cream, and it had a little black dot on the upper underwings, and inside the little black dot a smaller orange one. Four wings, the upper ones larger, hinged on a slender, fuzzy body, flapping uselessly at a window pane. A mistake: the butterfly had made a mistake. There was no nectar at the window or beyond, only behind. _Go back, butterfly_. Leia would have cupped it between her palms, if she had only known…

If she had known… The borrowed dress held her up; otherwise she would collapse gently down to the ground. She was empty, leaked out all over the stage, alone.

The truth was the hardest to accept.

If she stepped outside, her eyes wouldn't greet the starlit sky, searching for Alderaan. She would be looking for the Death Star. 

There was no going back.


	4. Observations, II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same moment in time...

Dr. Renzatl sat on the lip of Sandsucker Pond, her back leaning against the crude signpost warning against stepping too close. It was dark; night had fallen. During the day she had learned to tell the difference between safe soil and dangerous muck, but it all looked the same right now.

Through the trees she could glimpse light. Usually the only lighting at night had only been for the landing strips, as the base was careful not to attract undue attention, but tonight General Dodonna had given permission for the generators to run. "Use 'em up!" he had barked out to the throng, and now they powered out light and music.

The battle was over.

She knew where she was, why she was here. She was not a violent person, but she served in the Rebel Alliance. She was a therapist, not a soldier or pilot. She would never find herself on the front lines. And yet, General Dodonna had told her to be prepared to die...

She had come out to the pond to do a bit of reflecting, to wait for the feeling of the surreal to pass. She was still in uniform; she remembered wondering if she should change, but had decided against it. Her hair was down though. Or half down, half up. It was a mess. She must have torn at her hair.

Pilots were the ones to go to battle. Training was constant. And they had gone, but they took her with her...

Earlier, a ship had sought to land, and General Dodonna allowed it, but an alert went up. Dr. Renzatl had left her office, and went to see if she needed to get to an evacuation transport. Sentries had their weapons up, directed at a cart approaching the temple entrance, and Dr. Renzatl followed their aim, squinting out of the shadow of the temple into the sunlight.

She noticed the Wookiee right away. They were not a common sight. Next was the taller of the two men. Instinctively she recognized he hailed from Corellia; homeworlders could tell one another. The other man was a youth, who was looking about with his mouth agape. A young woman dashed off a cart before it came to a stop and embraced General Dodonna. This was a surprise. General Dodonna was not exactly the kind of man that inspired warm feelings, but he was hugging the young woman back, and Dr. Renzatl recognized her. She was Princess Leia, the daughter of Viceroy Organa.

The Princess of Alderaan, Dr. Renzatl amended to herself, and said a silent prayer, and offered a hope, that many more would come.

The Princess and the General had a hasty discussion, and then he signaled to the sentries and Princess Leia beckoned to the men and Wookiee, and also to a pair of droids Dr. Renzatl had overlooked.

"What's happened?" she asked a sentry. "Are we evacuating?"

"We're staying on high alert," the man replied, "but no evacuation."

Dr. Renzatl swallowed and nodded nervously. She couldn't be of help and only in the way, so she returned to her office, and twenty minutes later General Dodonna appeared. His face was white.

"The moment has come," he told her grimly. "I just sent forty-eight fighters out."

"May the Force be with us," Dr Renzatl breathed.

"That ship that landed... it was followed." General Dodonna said, and stopped. He seemed to have difficulty informing her of developments.

"Followed?" Dr. Renzatl repeated helpfully.

"Yes. By the Empire. A battle station, one they call the Death Star. That ship was late. It wasn't supposed to be that ship-" General Dodonna waved his hand rapidly, erasing what he said. "Never mind. The purpose of Yavin was to gather the fleet to go against the Death Star, because we would have in our hands the technical readouts telling us how to destroy it."

"I see," Dr. Renzatl said. It was the first time anyone had explained the reason for Yavin to her.

"The Empire caught on to the theft. The prisoner managed to escape and deliver the plans, only it might be too late. We've lost the element of surprise. There was a tracking device on the ship and the Empire has learned the location of the Rebel fleet."

"I see," Dr. Renzatl said again. His story seemed very incomplete, and rather choppy, but now was not the time to ask questions.

"The Death Star is the weapon that destroyed Alderaan," General Dodonna said conclusively.

"Oh," the doctor's eyes widened.

"Yavin will be in its sights. We estimate thirty minutes."

"Oh my gods," Dr. Renzatl blurted.

"Yes. Our attack plan is sound, but the Death Star is heavily armed."

Dr. Renzatl had no idea why General Dodonna was wasting time talking to her. They should be moving, running. Fleeing.

"I'll offer you the chance to leave. You will risk capture or fire by the Empire. That's something you ought to know."

He wasn't leaving, she realized. The general would go down with the moon, as he thought proper.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to do- a terrible, icy fear was all through her. To tell the General, goodbye, thank you, good death, seemed so... cold, like he was already dead and she wasn't, but it was all she could think of. She could dash past him, out into the temple hallways, to the hangar, and find the ship that would bring her to safety. Or at least the chance of survival.

She wanted to ask who else was leaving.

"Let's hope for the best," General Dodonna said lamely. "I'll be in the command center, following the battle and the Empire's approach. You can... wait there, with us, if you'd rather not be alone."

It was evident General Dodonna thought the battle was a lost cause. So was the idea of leaving. He was being considerate, acknowledging her status as support staff, but his option to leave was a polite bluff. Dr. Renzatl barely found her voice. "Thank you, General," she said, and had no idea what she was thanking him for.

She paced for a while, feeling frantic, and then a feeling of majesty came over, a dignity, and she sat at her desk, her legs crossed composedly, because for some reason appearances mattered, and she wanted to appear calm. It felt like something was watching her. Maybe a higher being. She pulled a data board to her.

 _My name is Major Dr. Albrina Renzatl,_ she wrote. _I am fifty-four years old, and I am about to die._

_I will be a victim of the Death Star. The same weapon that has destroyed Alderaan. An entire planet, completely gone. Nothing is left of it. Not her people, her architecture, not her seas or her soil. And now the same will happen to the fourth moon of Yavin._

_My friends call me Brin and my husband is dead. I wish I had died like him. I wish, if we both had to die, that we could have done so together. We had no children. My parents are dead. My sister, too. His father still lives. I have not spoken to him in two years, I realize. I always meant to._

_I will be honest: I am terrified. I don't want to become nothing. I wish I understood the threat the Empire poses to all of us, for I feel if I had, if we all had, we would not have come to this point._

_I- am not brave. Not like Bail Organa, who did see the threat and quietly tried to stop it. Too quietly, I fear. I am not brave like General Dodonna, who sees death as a kind of duty._

_To me it is a tragedy._

_No one will see this,_ Dr. Renzatl wrote. _No one. It will be obliterated, same as my body. How so very sad, that my life is reduced to nothing._

Dr. Renzatl stopped writing. If it was pointless, then why do it? How should one spend their last moments, if they are fortunate enough to know?

The base had grieved Alderaan together. The pilots were up there now, protecting them, and dying.

Dr. Renzatl went to the command center. Her life could lack meaning to anyone but herself. She would die with the others, for that felt right.

General Dodonna was there, with the Princess, gathered around an interactive screen that displayed the pilot locations and transmitted their radio chatter.

"Death Star approaching firing range in five minutes," someone informed General Dodonna.

Prisoner, Dr. Renzatl recalled what the General had told her. Dodonna must have meant the Princess. The men and Wookiee that brought her were not present, so they must have joined the battle.

"Three minutes."

The Princess and General Dodonna drew closer together. Dr. Renzatl hoped idly that Dodonna would see her, beckon her to their little circle, where they could huddle together.

"Two minutes."

Dr. Renzatl slunk to the floor, her knees drawn to her chest. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to see it, not the battle station nor its death laser. She didn't want to hear it or feel it. She hugged her knees tighter and put her forehead on her knees.

It would get hot, or she would burn, or the earth would explode around her. She was scared of pain.

"One minute."

She squeezed her eyes shut and called to her husband.

"Pull up!" a pilot on the radio screamed, and then screamed again.

 _Kiss the sky before you die. After the battle see Renzatl._ And of her?

All the things she hadn't done, had missed. The bowl of candy in her drawer that she rationed so carefully, one piece a day; she'd eat it all. The sun rose without her witnessing it. All the things she still wanted to do. _Please_ , she begged the higher being.

"Luke, you turned off your targeting computer," she heard.

"Thirty seconds."

"- Blow this thing so we can all go home!" The voice was excited.

"Twenty-"

"Woo-hoo!"

Princess Leia made a choking noise.

Dr. Renzatl lifted her head, curious despite herself. Was the Princess the first to-?

General Dodonna collapsed onto the screen, his head rolling over his elbows. Princess Leia dashed out of the command center.

"They've done it!" a golden droid shouted.

Hastily, Dr. Renzatl scrambled to her feet. Everyone was leaving the command center. Some were crying, others were grinning and shouting incoherent syllables. She was panting. Even the droid had left the command center and she was the only one.

The hangar was not her place. She went back to her office, re-read her scribbled biography, if she would call it that, and brought it to Sandsucker Pond.

She was a therapist, and she knew the value of talking to someone. She felt lonely, here. She almost threw her data board into the suck sand. It was panicked gibberish. But on second thought she kept it on her lap.

What else was down there, never to be recovered? A baby bird, fallen out of the nest? The costly misstep of a Massassi? A historian had theorized on the possibility of sacrifice in the earthen-floored temple. No, Dr. Renzatl was certain. The Massassi would know of the suck sand, same as the base had quickly learned, and if they did anything like make sacrifices, it would be in a place like Sandsucker Pond.

The suck sand had a name, and a warning, and a history no one could know.

The thump of music was rhythmic, like a pulse. The doctor's thoughts drifted to the Princess, dressed up and smiling after the battle. Experience told her it was perhaps a facade. The Princess was so many things: victim, mourner and victor. Dr. Renzatl admired her and ached for her. Once the adrenaline of the battle wore off the victory would feel hollow.

She thought about bringing her out here, to Sandsucker Pond, so the Princess could get her bearings. She would see Alderaan below the surface, and she would see the pond was like the Death Star, and she would understand how both had to exist.

It was an idle thought. Most likely Dr. Renzatl would see the Princess, and it should be in the appropriate setting. The Princess needed a friend right now, and Dr. Renzatl could not be her friend.

Dr. Renzatl stared into the muck before her. Some flies were hovering above the surface. She could hear them buzzing.

Life would go on. It always did. Even without Alderaan, it went on. It seemed cruel, but that's how it was.


	5. Shock, II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sentient and the surreal.

Shock,II

There was a great roar of cheer, of happiness; the noise rolled over Leia but didn't penetrate. Luke was engulfed by the crowd. Captain Solo had already moved to the side, his eyes wary and perhaps alarmed, a satisfying sight, but the crowd was generous and soon he too was gone, swept away. General Dodonna gave her a curt nod before moving off to confer with the rest of leadership, and Leia was left alone on the stage as the room emptied.

The noise paraded through the converted temple, now an empty hangar, and snaked itself outside into the jungle clearing, the added thump of music telling her the celebration had evolved. No one came to get her. She didn't know how to join them. She didn't know if she should, if she wanted to. If they wanted her there. Perhaps she didn't know how to celebrate. A Princess at a party was an arrangement, like the music, or the menu.

Though- Leia frowned- she would call running to Luke after he landed, pounding her sweaty hands on his sweat-soaked flight suit, celebrating. The size of their smiles, how everyone else in the hangar dropped from her awareness, how tightly they embraced Han once he joined them. How warm and not-sweaty his body was, how, for once, he was neither concealing nor transparent, but genuine.

She thought now she must have been celebrating Luke's survival, and Han's return. That's what the medals were for, the ones she hung around their necks, in her mind. Not really in bravery, though that was what it was called. Captain Solo had said something...

Alone on the stage Leia tapped her thigh, trying to re-create the scene where he'd... It wasn't a real stage, just planks of wood elevated across two large bins, and they had created steps for her out of crates. The borrowed shoes were too big, the borrowed hose too slippery, and the toes had slid into the point of the shoes and grown numb. She shifted her weight, and the sound under her foot was hollow and echoed about the large but empty room. Leia frowned stubbornly. Whatever he said had some semblance of truth, wry and almost inappropriate, but she had approved of it because... well... that's what she was. That's what they were.

She saw them, in her memory, Luke and Han talking; Luke was simultaneously proud and modest but also tragic; Han suddenly uncomfortable. General Dodonna had asked her to deliver the news to them, how the Rebel Alliance would celebrate their first real victory over the Empire. She remembered a rising bitterness, that General Dodonna should give her an errand. Where she came from she was a princess, but she wasn't a princess here. They didn't know what to do with her. She was some sort of unnamed presence, though they called her 'Your Highness'. They couldn't send her back to where she came from. Not to Alderaan, and not to the Death Star.

She had told Luke and Han, "Mon Mothma will announce the victory to the galaxy, and declare open war. We're no longer a group of rebels, but officially the Alliance to Restore the Republic. You both are to be awarded the Medal of Bravery."

"What about you?" Luke had asked.

He had a way of warming her. Leia smiled wistfully. "I have the honor of presentation."

"Oh. Bravery, huh?" Luke said.

"More like survivor's luck," Han had drawled, and all of them, Chewbacca, Luke, even Leia, had nodded.

She couldn't celebrate the victory over the thing that took Alderaan away. The Death Star was the reason for her... her... and she pressed her lips together, the rest of the thought cut off. She wasn't anything without Alderaan, except for what the Death Star made her, and if that was gone, where did that leave her?

The gown was all wrong too, and Leia came to a decision. She would change. She left the stage, hoping she would be able to find the room they had let her use to freshen up. The rebel base had taken over artifacts of a civilization long since died out on a forest moon of Yavin. Huge stone buildings, their original purpose only guessed at, the jungle growth taking root in crumbling mortar, empty chambers ideal for hiding a fleet, an army.

A strange place for a white gown, Leia thought. Why was it here? She couldn't settle it, couldn't figure it out. She could barely remember landing with the _Falcon_ , or the battle, and then she'd been whisked away to change, and she was trying to figure out why being so happy made her feel so sad.

"This ought to be suitable, don't you think?" someone had said, and Leia hadn't looked or really listened; just assumed it was a woman, but during the medal ceremony she didn't remember seeing any women... A droid had helped her tailor the gown so it fit; if anyone looked at the back they would see the tucks and pins.

Leia found herself outside, looking up through the trees at the sky, thinking about the Death Star and all that had happened to her, and now it was gone. Her imprisonment, the torture- gone.

She forgot there was a party. She stood frozen, her heart beating faster than the rhythm of the music, absolutely unable to join the revelry. She made herself move, mindful of the path markers. One of the techs had told her a sludgy kind of sand existed in intermittent pockets around the hard earth, disguised by fallen leaves, and not to stray off the path or risk being sucked down and swallowed.

Why was this harder than facing Darth Vader?

It made Alderaan real, she answered herself. Her gaze stayed upward, past the trees, into the night sky, where somewhere above pieces of metal that once were the Death Star gathered in gravity, as the remnants of Alderaan did elsewhere.

The quarters they arranged for her to use were a dead pilot's. His personal effects were still in the small room, scattered on the small cot. Evidently when the call for battle came he had dashed back to his quarters and emptied his pockets. Leia drifted around the room, eyes taking in the lack of detail. A bed, a desk with chair, a plain set of corrugated wood drawers. When she touched the data board on the little desk the screen came to light with a letter he'd started.

_Dear Mati,  
Looks like I'm going to see some action finally. After all this time. This one's the big one, the rumor is. By the time you get this, you'll have heard that Alderaan was destroyed by it. And with any luck, maybe you'll have heard the war is over._

_I don't have time to write more. But I wanted to send something, in case- well, you know. I'm still your boy, always will be. Love ya, Mati, but I gotta go._

Leia had stood in the room, unwilling to empty the cot, her thoughts on the mother somewhere far away. The bed was made, the blanket tightly tucked in over the sheet. She looked around at the hard stone floor. Where was she going to sleep? Who expected her to sleep?

Leia had a feeling they regarded her mission as failed because she'd been caught. It didn't matter that she escaped. It hadn't been _their_ escape. She knew what was on her file. 'Captured'. She knew they notified her father on Alderaan. 'Presumed dead'. And of course it no longer mattered if the plans were stolen; the goal was to destroy the Death Star before it was used, and she had failed to prevent that.

She'd managed to bring the plans to the Rebellion after all, but she also managed, through no fault of her own, to bring the Empire. A tracking device had been placed on Solo's ship, the _Millennium Falcon_ , and the jungle world of Yavin, with its ancient stone artifacts, was exactly seconds away from being the second world the Death Star destroyed before Luke's shot saved them all.

Dear Mati, she composed in her head, I'm sorry I found your son's letter. I didn't mean to intrude.

Time was vague in the room. Purpose, ideas, too. Leia had taken off the gown. She folded it neatly and set it on the back of the chair. She didn't know where it had come from or where to return it. She caressed it, for it was just as strange as she, wasn't it? Stripped down to her underclothing, she didn't know how to be, and just stood there.

A strange thought, half a mind to appear to them, out there, like this, stripped. Dodonna would be horrified, and the men- boys- wouldn't jeer, and they should, for they were young and healthy, and Captain Solo would tell her to cover up, and Luke would give her the yellow jacket he took from Han, and they would be the only ones who knew she was really screaming _look at me!_

Leia looked down at herself. Pale skin, slender; a body barely grown into womanhood. It was curious, how she barely recognized it. She followed the imaginary scene through, saw herself mostly undressed and flitting through the ranks like a moth, unnoticed except for the dark eyes of the Captain's, and shook her head rapidly to dispel the vision. Then she removed the earrings from her lobes, and the necklace. Her own gown, more practical and stained, was draped over the chair. She slipped it over her head and decided the elegant braid coursing down her back was a lie. She redid her hair in the side buns, because it was how she arrived and it was a statement. On the Death Star, while she waited for Luke and Han to peel off their stormtrooper uniforms, she had taken the time to tidy the buns after emerging from the garbage masher. The buns, before and after, saved her the energy of having to explain herself.

She was jealous of Mati's son, who had someone to mourn him. And she envied the evidence of his life: how neat he was, but his pockets had been emptied in a hurry. His wallet, ID scanner, some pieces of candy. He left a deck of cards he didn't bring into battle on the bed. Her fingers brushed them. Once the celebration was done and the base back to regular operations, a droid would come and sweep them into a box, erasing the room of the pilot's presence, and the contents would be tagged with his name, and soon Mati would receive a package containing the items and a letter of condolence.

The room was like a state of in-between, that's what it was, she decided. A portal between the living and dying. She couldn't sit, only pace as the walls got smaller and smaller, and tell Mati, I regret to inform you...

The pilot hoped to see the war come to an end.

He must be disappointed, Leia thought. _I tried_ , Mati, he would explain in a letter. _What can I say? You win some, you lose some._

Mati, I'll keep fighting, Leia told the mother. So your son gets his wish.

A knock came at the door. "Leia?" she heard. There was only one person here who called her by her name. She moved to the door, feeling suddenly stiff and sore. The bright yellow jacket Luke had borrowed from Han earlier glowed like a moon in the dark hallway.

Luke said, "Can we come in?" He wasn't rude but he lacked manners. He didn't wait for her to invite him but just entered. Leia started to reflect on that. How one's place of origin styled behavior. Tatooine and Alder-

Behind him, the figures of Han Solo and Chewbacca emerged from the back-lit corridor like a phantasm, and she thought, _of all the things I once knew, I only know these three now._

"Where you been?" Luke asked.

Leia started to answer. She waved a hand, indicating the pilot's quarters, "I-"

"Because you've got to be with us," Luke said. "It's awful."

Leia closed her mouth, surprised, and peered at Luke. Behind him, the great Wookiee said something, like an explanation, and Captain Solo nodded in agreement. Luke was wired, tight; but it was adrenaline, Leia saw; not alcohol. "Awful?" she repeated.

"Yes," Luke declared. "No one's-" he broke off suddenly, self-conscious. "How do you celebrate sacrifice, you know?" He scuffed at the ground.

Leia nodded. Yes, she did know.

Han put in, for Luke's benefit, "It's a lousy party. And we don't feel like talking. Do we, kid?"

"No," Luke shook his head. "I don't. I'm tired. I wanna hide."

"Well," Leia said. "I'm sorry it's awful," but she realized she didn't want to be with anyone, and she didn't want to be alone, but she could be with these three. She moved aside so Han and Chewie could enter. "You can hide in here."

Chewbacca yowled something, finishing with his head cocked at an angle and looking at Leia. She cocked her own similarly, her gaze expectantly at Han to translate.

"Checking on you," he said gruffly, and walked to the center of the pilot's quarters, looking around. "They gave you this?" he said, and he snorted.

He had some idea of her, and Leia was curious. Just what should they offer her, she wanted to know from him. Whatever he thought, she would disagree. Not a special room reserved for the rare visit by a dignitary, such as Senator Mothma or her father might have used, not a converted office. The dead pilot's room was perfect, even though she couldn't stay in it.

Luke was looking at the bed, at the objects on the neatly tucked cover, and instead of sweeping them into a pile off to the side, he respectfully removed the pillow and sat on the floor instead. Gratified, both at Luke's gesture and Han's irritation, Leia sat beside Luke, the hard metal of the bed's rail pressing into her back.

"You changed, huh?" Luke said unnecessarily.

Chewbacca had barely entered the room. He directed a question at Han.

"That'd be all right," Han said, and resumed his prowling of the room. Chewbacca left.

"What," Luke said.

"He's gonna get us somethin' to eat," Han translated the Wookiee language to Luke. He picked up the deck of cards, turning the box that contained them over, and dropped it back on the bed.

"Oh," Luke said. "That _will_ be all right."

Leia's chin was lowered, and Han's boots- polished for the occasion- blocked her vision of the floor, so she lifted just her eyes sideways to make out what she could of Luke next to her, hungry and tired and a hero, and she smiled slightly.

"John D. Branon," Han said, now at the desk, his finger on the data board.

"What?" Luke said again, and Leia wondered why learning the pilot's name bothered her. John Branon had been a son, a card player; he was excited and idealistic, and his things, his letter, were much more warm, much more real, than his name. _Still your boy._

"Close that up," she ordered Han.

He ignored her. "That's whose room this was. John D. Branon."

"Was he an officer?" Luke wondered aloud. "No roommate."

"Lieutenant," Han said, scrolling through the data board.

"He was killed," Leia said. And now he was just a name.

"Which was he?" Luke asked. "I'm sorry I don't know. I met most, but it was all so quick..."

Han picked up an earring Leia had left on the gown.

"I don't know," Leia answered, watching Han to see if he would pocket the earring. He didn't, and there was nothing else to think about. The dead pilot was slipping from her and a heavy despair fell over her. Mati's son was becoming a statistic, one of so many. "I tried to meet them all before the battle, but as you say..."

"It was quick," Luke finished for her. "I was going to bunk with Biggs tonight."

Han pivoted from the desk to peer at Luke. "Biggs?"

"Yeah, one of the-" Luke waved his hand, letting the gesture remain unfinished, and all three humans nodded. "I knew him from home, actually," Luke continued. "We grew up together."

"Oh, Luke," Leia said.

"Last I saw him on Tatooine, he told me he was planning on defecting from the Empire and joining the Rebellion. I told him he'd never find it."

"Small galaxy, huh," Han said, cutting into the thick silence, and Leia brought her gaze to him, wondering what it was that made him stand out from everyone else here. He'd been reluctant to join the fight but it wasn't for his own self-preservation, as he claimed. It wasn't death he was afraid of. It was pain; the pain of continuing. She understood. She was in terrible pain right now.

"Yeah. It is," Luke nodded with a sad realization. "Really small sometimes. It's funny isn't it. Well, not funny. We were- before the battle, standing around- talking; like there wasn't any danger. Just matter of fact that neither of us would die and the only thing worrying us was where to sleep later. I feel, so naive. Like an idiot."

Leia put her hand on Luke's arm. "Don't."

"But Leia, you can't 'oh, Luke' me, because there must be so many you grew up with that...ech," he trailed off, placing his palm over his eyes. "Shit," he swore, the first time Leia heard him, but she drew her legs up and made no response.

"I'm sorry," Luke said.

Leia nodded curtly.

"That was a real stupid thing to say," Luke kept apologizing. "I know one person can't compare to a whole planet-"

"It does," Leia said, glad her voice came out soft yet firm. "Of course it does. It's the same. And you know what's worse," she offered as a way to get the image of her father out of her head, "is the grandmother that worked in the store around the corner. What if there's no one to talk about her? What if there's no one to say her name?"

They fell silent. Leia had a torrent of names, and her lips were folded over her teeth like a dam, and she knew Luke, who had fewer, was reciting his own. His friend Biggs, and Ben Kenobi, lost on the Death Star; his aunt and uncle, killed at his home; even his father, whom he had never met. All by the Empire, faceless soldiers in white or black masks, and she could almost feel his enmity grow.

"So say a name," Han broke the silence.

Luke was looking at Leia expectantly, to see if she would, and although she had released her lips, she found she couldn't open them. Not any of _those_ names. No. For Mati though, and Luke, who had watched the Empire pick off Red Squadron one by one, she could.

"John D. Branon," Leia said, and her body grew softer. _Dear Mati._ She might even ask Dodonna in the morning if she could be the one to compose the letters of condolence, make them more personal. A mother didn't really want to know her son died honorably; while that was important, that kind of information didn't last a lifetime. She was probably more interested in the last time he smiled, that he still liked candy.

The door swished open, and Chewie ducked through the threshold, balancing a flask, a stack of four cups, and a platter of a meat dish Leia didn't recognize. The pieces were small, covered in a sticky-looking sauce that smelled good. She was hungry, she realized. She and Luke stood, and Luke made a beeline for the platter of food but Leia walked up to Han.

"I'll say all the names," she resolved, looking distantly at a corner. "Someday. I'll get whatever I can from the holoweb. The census, school rosters, tax forms. Whatever it takes, but I will list them all in one place."

General Dodonna would have patted her patronizingly on the shoulder. He would be listening to the talk of grief, temporary and intense. Captain Solo instead let her see his eyes longer than she would be inclined.

He only nodded, though it felt like a promise. Intense, but not temporary, and it confused Leia, for the Captain had been quite adamant about not staying with the Rebellion. He insisted he was in it for the money, but now he seemed like he would follow up on her, check for that list some day.

Chewie announced something in his native tongue. He looked fierce, but Leia had quickly developed an affection for him. He was a delightful being, strong and gentle, and it was his association with Han that made the Captain likeable, despite efforts to the contrary. Han had explained earlier that the Wookiee understood several languages, but physically was limited to speaking only Shyriiwook.

"He robbed the buffet table," Han informed them.

Luke had his nose in the platter. "Good choice," he determined. "What else is out there? Maybe we should get a plate." He looked around. "Something to eat with? A fork? A napkin, at least."

Chewie rumbled at Luke, swaying his hips, and liquid splashed out of the flask.

It didn't really need interpreting, but Han said, "He says they're dancing."

"Oh," Luke made a sour face. "I'll lick my fingers."

"They dancing with any women?" Han asked Chewie.

The Wookiee made a sly-sounding response. Luke glanced over at Leia, gauging how much she understood, both of the language and the context. She got the feeling they were on equal footing.

"Might not be a bad way to cap off the evening," Han said with a grin, then he shrugged. "Just haven't seen any. Someone brought that gown," he pointed with his chin toward the neatly folded garment on the chair back.

"Who said it has to be a woman?" Luke wondered. "It's a big galaxy. It fit you large, didn't it Leia? Could be a man's."

Chewie chortled. They sat in a circle on the stone floor, the platter in the center, and busied themselves with the food, each licking their fingers and drying them on the fabric or fur covering their thighs.

"Maybe it's an all-male base," Luke said after his third piece of meat, still thinking about the gown.

"I wouldn't bring one like that," Han considered. " _If_ I was to bring one, mind you. It wouldn't be white."

"I like the shimmer silk," Luke put in. "Mine would be greens or blues. I like those colors."

"And you know how the sleeves were sheer?"

"Yeah," Luke agreed. "A man's skin isn't as nice. We're too hairy."

"That's why I think it's a woman's," Han said. "And the Princess is short. It'd come up to my knees."

"Not a good length," Luke agreed. "Either real short or real long."

Leia listened as Han and Luke designed their own gowns in earnest. Luke observed that Han had tight ears and something small on the lobes would pass, while Luke preferred a choker necklace over his throat. It was ludicrous, but so was the idea the Death Star could be destroyed, and Leia listened passively, their voices flowing around her, a true discussion of the inane, and it was soothing.

"I'll find out who the gown belongs to," Leia spoke up finally, and somehow she brought the conversation to an end. She didn't know what she did to cause it, but the men hadn't described their footwear yet and now they wouldn't. They concentrated for a time on eating. To break the silence, Luke brought up the Death Star.

"Did you know Ben was a Jedi?" Luke turned to Leia at one point. "I didn't get to ask you before. You called him 'General Kenobi.'"

She nodded, eyes directed at the meat platter. "My father," Leia took a careful bite and made Luke wait while she chewed it, "had given me his name a while back, when I first undertook some operations for the Rebellion. He told me he was a Jedi in hiding. Was he on Tatooine since the Fall?"

"I don't know," Luke mumbled. "I think so. Seems like he was always there."

"I wonder what it was like for him."

"Tatooine's a good place to hide," Han commented. "The Outer Rim is ignored by the Empire."

"He kept his name," Luke said. "Well, the last name, anyway. And he- I wonder how he did it. When. Like, if it was part of the Force. He had a reputation," Luke trailed off thoughtfully.

"What, like a problem solver?" Leia guessed.

"No." Luke looked at her, blue eyes full of memory. "As a hermit. A loner. An odd sort, you know?"

Han snorted. "You're being kind."

"Oh, stop it," Leia reprimanded. "You can't know what he had to endure. A Jedi in hiding... he must have been heart broken. And he picked you, didn't he, to get the droids off-planet. So if you want to add odd to the equation..." She had a point, but it was hard to put across.

"Chewie picked him." The Wookiee had something to add, and Han translated. "He said he looked like a mild human with an easy job."

"He pulled the wool over your eyes," Luke wasn't ready to laugh yet but he smiled. "I bet he used the Force."

"And it wasn't such an easy job at that, was it?" Leia challenged. "Perhaps you ought to rethink your purpose. What were _you_ doing on Tatooine?"

Han touched a finger to his chest. "I had my own purpose," he said defiantly. "Tatooine is Jabba the Hutt's base of operations, and once upon a time, maybe until four days ago, I was his favorite smuggler."

The Wookiee snorted.

"What happened?" Luke asked.

"Okay," Han hedged, "a little longer than four days. Whenever I dropped that load." He turned to Luke. "I owe him for a lost shipment of spice. And Jabba's charging me street value, even though it hadn't been delivered yet. Which ain't fair."

"So how much?"

"It doesn't matter," Leia put in. "The Empire's bounty on you will be higher."

"Great," Han said ironically. "I'd rather deal with the Empire than Jabba."

"Are you afraid of him?" Luke asked.

Han waved his medal still hanging around his neck. "I'm supposed to be brave, remember?"

"You are brave," Leia said quietly.

"Huh. I'll be honest. It was a lot longer than four days ago, and I've been runnin' from Jabba ever since. I ain' that brave, Princess."

"I think you are."

"You don't know me."

"I don't," Leia agreed, Luke listening intently. "I only know what I know from the Death Star. And you... behaved well. Except for the times when you insulted me, but I'll attribute that to stress-"

"You insulted me first!"

Luke and Chewie chuckled.

"I was under stress," Leia said, trying for humor, but everyone got quiet, for which she was sorry. "But I would say you were brave," she finished.

Han met Luke's eyes. "Not as brave as you," he told her. Luke nodded his head in agreement.

"Well, you can't expect to hold yourself up to my level," she responded in all seriousness. "After all, I'm a princess."

The piece of meat on its way to Han's mouth froze, and he surprised Leia by laughing heartily, and Chewie joined in. "Guess that explains everything, huh," he chuckled.

But the conversation faltered. Leia was thinking how she caused silence, and yet had made someone- laugh, which should be absurd- Han Solo of all people; but it was a reward in itself. Luke apparently was still thinking of Ben Kenobi, for he asked Han about something that had occurred in the cantina, and the two men and the Wookiee continued their own quiet discussion.

"We've got that in common, do you see?" Luke noted to them all. "Either Ben, or Tatooine. Maybe both. You were there, Han, trying to get work, and Ben hired you. Leia was there, or intending to be there, trying to get to Ben, and I was just there, trying to fetch R2 from running away to Ben. He's the thing that ties us all together."

"That's true," Leia realized. "And on the Death Star, the bond was cemented."

Chewie held his glass up and declared something. The other three followed suit, not needing a translation. "To Ben," Luke echoed, and four glasses touched. "To General Kenobi," Leia put in, and Han added, "To the old man."

In the room of in-between, it was Luke who decided that no one should stay. "Can you sneak us on the _Falcon_ Han? You want to Leia?"

She did, because she couldn't face what was in the room alone. She got up, her hip joints stiff, and pulled the gown and jewelry off the chair. She followed them out, and they took the long way around, avoiding the music and sure to stay on the path. Han ran the turbine fans all night so the thumping rhythm wouldn't disturb them, and they slept.


	6. Denial, I

Denial

Leia awoke with a sense of urgency. She felt horrible for sleeping. What a lavish, indulgent thing to do. Millions would never sleep again.

A euphemism for death popped into her head. Eternal sleep. What a crock, she thought, and got out of the bunk. She had slept in her own gown, the one she wore on the Death Star. Her hair needed attention. The rolled buns were loose and sagging over her ears, and she took a moment to freshen them.

Her father was still alive while she slept. "We all do what we have to," he kept telling her while she screamed and screamed that he needed to leave, and she thought about that while she tended to her hair, not looking at anything.

She proceeded through the _Falcon_ to the lounge table, and apparently she'd slept longer than both Han and Luke, who were just two men; not princesses. They had destinations only, not a war, and they were eating eggs but she slept on.

"Duller," she heard Luke say. "Don't you think?"

"You're worried?" Han's voice, actually listening.

"Yeah, aren't you?"

Her father, legs crossed in his favorite winged back chair so she could see the design on the leg of one sock, turning a palm up, "If it's what we have to do," his smile so resigned, tender, loving.

Luke and Han quickly cut off their own conversation. "Morning, Highness,” Han greeted her casually. “They're giving food away. Less to carry when they leave. Want some?"

She nodded, hungry but not for food.

"See?" Luke said.

Her father, her father, her father. Alive.

Dark eyes and hair, a carefully trimmed beard. The details: smile lines at his eyes, thick lips, the life in those eyes. That last smile he gave her.

Forgiveness. That's what it was.

He couldn't be dead. He couldn't- he-

All that life, and she knew it, like her own; she could _see_ it, feel it. How could something like that… go away? Be ki-

It couldn't. She loved her father. That would keep him alive. It was all she had.


	7. Denial, II

Denial, II

 

Han watched Leia order her eggs about on the plate, pushing them this way with the fork, then that way.

"You always eat like that?" he asked.

She looked up to also find Luke mournfully watching her. "Like what?"

"Are you organizing it by color?" Han persisted.

"I wouldn't call it eating," Luke said.

"Princess Leia Organa-izer," Han said.

He was so irritating that she found even her sore throat faded to the background. "I'm not organiz-" she began, then stopped. Whatever he wanted, if he wanted to go back to the Death Star and resume how they talked to each other, if he wanted- She didn't want to, didn't care. She didn't have the energy.

"Food gets bitten," Han said. "Not words. Eat before it gets cold."

"It's already cold. And it's probably not good. Chow." But she took a bite.

"Guess what," Luke said, like a kid with a secret, "General Dodonna was here, talking to Han."

"Mind your own business, big mouth."

"Recruitment speech?" Leia guessed, because Luke wanted her to. Luke wanted her to participate, the same as the captain wanted her to eat. Life saving measures, she thought dully.

Han grinned. "He bites words too. No," he leaned back casually, spread an arm over the back of the seat, the kid that owned the secret, "he was just telling me things."

Leia stared at the table. She felt like she possessed great foresight. Or more, like an omniscience. Luke's eager delight, Han's casual negligence. A general, talking to a smuggler, and they thought they could surprise her. "Peddling rumors, Captain?"

"Han's got a charter already," Luke spilled the secret, unable to contain himself. He was happy about it, Leia saw; happy that he wasn't going to lose Han yet. It wasn't the same loss as Luke suffered by General Kenobi or his aunt and uncle, but losses tended to add up.

"That was fast," Leia commented. They deserved a dose of reality. "Back in your Hutt's good graces now that you have money?"

Han brushed her off. "I'd be a fool to step on Tatooine," he said. "Not after a certain incident in the cantina."

"That was Ben cut off that guy's arm," Luke frowned. "What's the Hutt got to do with that?"

"Not that," Han scowled. "Not everything revolves around you, you know."

"So what happened in the cantina? He knows you left with us?"

"He knows he's down a bounty hunter," Han grumbled sourly.

Luke shook his head, disappointed. "How do you live with yourself?" he wanted to know. "I'm exhausted just thinking about you. Almost getting caught smuggling, crime bosses, bounty hunter. It sounds like everything lately is just blowing up in your face."

"Better hope you don't," Han snapped. The answer seemed to please Luke, who caught Leia's eye and gave her a secret smile.

"Dodonna offered a charter?" Leia returned the men to the subject at hand. She thought about Luke, who would see Han again, which meant she would too, but she couldn't decide how to feel about it. It should matter, she thought, but she was so torn it was easier not to think about it. On the one hand, she hated having to borrow only to return, whether it was a gown or the friendship of a man, and on the other hand the thought of tending to something, something she'd gained, something she should care for, was exhausting.

"Rumor is, a Star Destroyer is on its way to check out what's here. Of course, they won't find anything, and I bet they know that. But what's left of the fighting forces is going to scatter for a time."

Leia nodded. The Empire would find on Yavin what they found on Dantooine. Evidence of occupation. The stone temples would hold no interest, and she wondered if they would still be standing after the Empire left. "You're helping to dismantle the base."

Han shrugged. "I'll be lifting off no matter what. Might as well carry some freight while I'm at it."

"General Dodonna also said we'll be able to catch a transmission of Mon Mothma's speech," Luke said.

"That's the other rumor," Han confirmed. "Mon Mothma is going to name a capitol for the New Republic."

"Aren't you just full of information this morning," Leia said, and Han grinned rakishly.

"How, though," Luke said. "Or why, is what I've been wondering. If the Empire can come and capture it..."

"It will be in name only," Leia answered. "For the purposes of establishment." She felt weary. "She's been in hiding. She can't emerge yet."

"And now we'll be in hiding," Luke concluded.

Mon Mothma had been in hiding for some time. Not Leia's father, who had remained in full sight of the Emperor as Viceroy of Alderaan. Mon didn't dare set foot on Coruscant, where the Imperial Senate met, for fear of arrest, but Viceroy Organa enjoyed a position of planetary power on a world committed to peaceful relations. The pair's treason had begun before Leia was born, when Palpatine was still Supreme Chancellor and steering the Republic to its death.

What a long time, she realized now. Her mind flashed to the sitting room off her father's office, all the diplomatic overtures he made from there. He had a favorite chair, and used to sit fully back in it, comfortable with himself, with his influence. From that chair, he had managed to get pledges of support, funds, information. All under Palpatine's admittedly suspicious nose, all under the pretense of embracing the Empire's might.

Why weren't you in hiding, Leia wanted to know.

No one had confirmed anything to her, said for sure. _We heard about Alderaan,_ Dodonna said. Nothing about her father. Leia knew about Alderaan; she'd been on the bridge of the Death Star and seen it happen. But it was a planet: vast; colored by its features, not its people. It blew up, and it stood to reason everything on it did, too. Her people. Leia closed her eyes against a flood of faces; for some reason she saw the servants in the household, not her friends. But her father... she could see him, his socks, everything, right before her eyes. There was no evidence, no-

He was the Viceroy. He would stay with his people. It wasn't evidence but it was fact. She knew him. But he had the Rebellion, too, what he'd been working in secret for years to make happen. He would want to continue.

"Today's the first day of the rest of our lives, huh Leia," Luke announced, jerking her from her reverie. "Makes me shaky."

"What?" Leia brought her eyes to Luke.

"I'm going to take the oath today. Did you do it?"

"The oath?"

"For formally enlisting."

"Oh. No, I haven't." Leia took a breath, putting her father away, but only for the time being. "I've only passed information along, on behalf of my father, through my contacts as a senator. Just a couple of times. He didn't want attention directed at me."

Luke nodded eagerly. "There wasn't time yesterday, but they said they'd administer it posthumously if I got killed in the battle, for my heirs. Even though I don't have any."

"Someone'd show up," Han stated, steering the subject in a different direction. "It's found money."

"What do you mean?" Luke was naive. "Someone pretends they're a relative?"

"After a time unclaimed benefits go back to the treasury," Han explained. "They put out a list every year. It's easy enough for someone to look at the names and get proof of inheritance. All you need is a death date, and where it occurred." He looked only slightly contrite. "I did it once."

Leia stirred. She thought of the recent dead, and that someone was waiting to violate their estate. "That's a sleazy thing to do," she said.

"Look who's making royal proclamations," Han mocked, but turned more serious. "Even I know it was. S'why I'm not a full-time con. Takes a special sort. But I paid my tuition at the Academy with it. Still use the alias."

Luke grinned down at his plate and brought a forkful of eggs to his mouth. "There's a lot in that statement," he said. "That you're a _part_ -time con. I'm going to have to think about that. And you went to the Academy. Did you become an Imperial pilot?"

Han's gaze was level at Luke. "I did."

"Not gonna hold it against you," Luke said gamely. "I wanted to, too. For a while, it was the only show in town. Now there's another side."

"The losing side."

"Not yet," Luke said cheerfully, and he pushed his plate away and stood up. "What do you say, Leia? Want to be a Rebel? Guess I know not to ask you, Han."

Leia stood slowly. "The first day of the rest of my life," she said.

The oath was words, cleverly arranged to pledge life and heart to the New Republic. There were so many religions in the galaxy that a catchall phrase was used.

"Is your promise," General Dodonna had his right hand raised. He referred to a note on a flimsi quickly, double checking the name, "Luke Skywalker, given freely and truthfully, and sworn under the divinity of your world?"

Luke was moved, his Adam's apple bobbing emotionally, his hand also raised. "Yes, Sir."

"State your world, soldier."

"Tatooine." After a heartbeat, Luke added, "Sir."

"State your divinity, soldier."

"Uh, the Maker. Sir."

"Princess Leia Organa, is your promise given freely and truthfully, and sworn under the divinity of your world?"

It was an oath, a rite, but she thought Dodonna would alter the wording, because of- due to the circumstances. She hadn't expected him to even mention her planet. What good was the oath without a world?

"Yes." Leia's voice came out cloudy, and she cleared her throat.

"State your world, Princess Leia."

Leia didn't want to, and her body tensed, as if bracing for impact. "Alderaan."

Nothing happened. General Dodonna only added, though his voice might have held a ruefulness, "State your divinity, Princess Leia of Alderaan."

"The... Twelve Goddesses." She looked down at the floor, wondering if her oath were false. There was no one to entrust her soul to.

"As Commander of the Armed Forces, and with the powers held bywith, I hereby add you to the ranks of the Alliance to Restore the Republic." Dodonna lowered his hand. "Congratulations, and thank you. May the Force be with us."

"May the Force be with us," Luke and Leia echoed.

It was only them, so there were more witnesses than enlistees. Han and Chewie were watching near the rear, ready to slip out, and all of leadership council milled about. They came up to shake hands with Luke and Leia.

"Your Highness," a general spoke up. "I'm General Virdal. We didn't get introduced yesterday." He gave a pained smile. "It seemed a trivial detail when destruction was just moments away. "But I'm glad to meet you. I heard a lot about you from your father. I am the head of military information here. I communicated with him quite a bit." He paused and looked at Leia intently. "Your father awaited this day."

Leia nodded but said nothing. What was there to say? Yes, she knew that about her father. Better than perhaps this general, for by Leia's reckoning the man was not even Alderaani. But this day was here and her father was not. Was it supposed to please her?

They looked greedy, she thought. Eager. Predatory. Yesterday they lost almost the entire fleet but today they had their war. She thought of John Branon and his things, and all the boxes to be packaged according to the owner's wishes, and the letter that would accompany it.

We regret to inform you...

"We communicated with Senator Mothma last night," General Dodonna told Leia. "She asked about you and told us she sent a holomessage for you. It arrived earlier."

Leia had the feeling the general had already listened to the holomessage and knew its contents, but Leia only nodded. She wasn't surprised at Mothma's concern for her. They served in the Imperial Senate together, and Leia had known her all her life.

"It's a tricky time, Your Highness," a third general said. "General Matuux, at your service." He made a bow. "We have a government in theory only. No systems have joined as of yet. Hopefully, the fate of Alderaan will serve as a wake up call, and by the time we retire tonight several will have ratified the declaration. As it stands now, it is imperative we stay out of the Empire's way until we've rebuilt our resources to face them."

Hopefully. The word was like bile. "Yes," Leia agreed. A wake up call, her mind screamed internally. What was wrong with this man? Millions dead- _dead_. Did he not- _Millions_ \- She thought she might be sick, and her face fell chalk white. "If I could listen to Mon's message-"

"Certainly." Dodonna took her elbow. "Are you all right, Princess Leia?"

"Yes- Yes."

"This way." He paused before opening the door. "Your father was so proud of you, Your Highness. I hope you know that."

He took a breath, but Leia had no comment so he changed the subject. "There are some bureaucratic details to take care of, for both you and Skywalker," he continued. "Contact sheets, that kind of thing. You'll be given a CBA. It's policy for those who wish to return to duty. Under the circumstances, I don't think it's a bad idea."

Leia nodded and thanked the general, just to get rid of him. She had no idea what he was talking about.

"We'll watch the declaration of war together as a base in the briefing theater," General Dodonna concluded. "I'll see you in an hour." He instructed a droid to set up Leia's holomessage. "Be sure we get you a comm," he noted before taking his leave.

Whatever the room's original intention, now it was obviously a conference room. The air was like everywhere else, cool and moist due to the stone and humidity. There was a pitcher of water on a table. Leia poured some into a cup, but her hand was shaking and she couldn't bring it to her mouth. "Start," she told the droid, and lowered herself gingerly, mindful of her body aching again, into a chair.

The little blue dimensional image of Mon Mothma appeared. She wore the same type of gown as Leia's Death Star gown, only Mon probably called it her Senator's gown.

"Leia," the image said. "Oh, sweet child. I hate- hate- sometimes the galaxy is so big and I cannot be with you. I just want to grab you up in a hug. I am so sorry." Mon Mothma looked straight into the recorder a long time. "There are no words, I find. You and I make our living with words, but I fail now. I have tears. I cry with you, for you. For our galaxy, for Alderaan.

"Leia. I can't pretend to understand I know what you are going through. It was so heartening to see a holo of you at the Medal Ceremony. You looked so beautiful in my gown. And you looked gracious, and wise.

"But I have a sense of you. I know you are not finished. Perhaps you are just getting started. It's one way to look at it, isn't it?

"We are at war now, Leia. We are an army. No longer a tiny band of terrorists. Things are going to get bad. The Death Star may be gone, but the citizens of the galaxy are in even more danger.

"Some have seen bad, Leia. Not all. They can't understand how it will get worse, or where, or when. But you do. I need you, Leia. I need you here with me."

Leia's lips parted and an odd feeling washed over her, part excitement and part dread.

"There will be worlds offering aid, worlds requesting aid. Alderaan still has her children scattered across the galaxy. They need your guidance.

"I wonder how your father's role would change, now that we have reached this point. Recruits will come on their own. I like to think Bail would see the same needs I have outlined, and I would be most honored if you would continue his work at my side."

Mon Mothma took a a quaking breath and was silent for so long that Leia thought perhaps she had finished and forgotten to turn the recorder off.

"I- never in my wildest dreams would I want this for you, Leia. Or for the galaxy. Never.

"I will see you soon. Even if you decide you cannot take on a role at this time, I will see you. I understand if you need time to think about this, and please do not feel pressured. Listen to yourself. Thank you, Leia. I send my love."

Mon Mothma gave a signal offscreen, and the image disappeared.

Leia rubbed a thumb, lost in thought. Mon treated her father as if he was dead. Of all the conspirators of twenty years ago, who met secretly in growing alarm at the liberties Republic Chancellor Palpatine was taking with his granted executive powers, Mon was the last one left. Over the years, there had been arrests, assassinations, disappearances, and forced resignations.

There had been no farewell between Leia and her father. She had left Alderaan two weeks ago, and he had come down to the landing pad but she was surrounded, she remembered, by advisers and maidens, and he had his own. Possessing a title meant rarely being alone. The crew of the _Tantive IV_ lined up on either side of the ramp, their arms up to form an arch for her to travel under. She had only waved at her father.

Leia slid a data board to her. Each seat around the table was equipped with one. She activated it, and wrote in it.

_You may have heard I am presumed dead, Father. And I have to presume that of you._

Mon was right. There were no words. She closed up the board and took it with her.

Luke was waiting for her, and he had put the time to good use, filling out the information required of new enlistees. He waved her over and passed the forms to her.

"I put Han down as my beneficiary. It's not stupid, is it? I don't have any heirs, and seems like he needs the money. Not that it'll be much."

"He'll appreciate the joke," Leia said, but she thought Luke to be extraordinary. "I suppose you can always change it, should you get married or something." Her stylus was hovering over the form, and she filled in a line. "I'm alone in the galaxy, too, so he'll be mine as well."

Luke smiled. "Or Chewie. He's got to put up with him. Like hazard pay, right?" He picked up a form. "I did this already, too."

Leia looked at it. "Oh, the CBA." The initials, she learned, stood for Comprehensive Behavioral Assessment. "How was it?"

Luke shrugged. "Harmless. Except for Wedge. He's mad. My wingman. My new wingman," Luke corrected. "They've grounded him."

"Why?"

"I told him he shouldn't be mad. Some of his answers indicated an irrationality. You know, he was with those guys over a year. Training with them, living with them. They were real tight, and now he's stuck with the newbie, me. That's what tipped the counselor off. He's pissed I survived."

"Oh, Luke."

Luke waved his hand rapidly, trying to vaporize her pity. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. He's not going to kill me or anything. Nothing like that. He's a good guy. We'll fly well together; I know we will. It just doesn't seem fair to him."

Leia nodded. Could she hate Yavin that it was spared the Death Star and not Alderaan? Could Dantooine hate her that she nominated it as a target of the Death Star? "I can understand his viewpoint."

"Yeah, I can too! I told mine, the counselor, I feel guilty I survived. And it's like rubbing sand in the wound that I'm the hero, you know?"

"So are you grounded too?"

"No. We talked a lot. Or I did," Luke suddenly flushed. "I told her about my aunt and uncle, and Ben, and being a Jedi. And she said I'm dealing well with it. The... the grief. You know." He smiled sheepishly. "It's even hard to say. She said my upbringing on Tatooine, how common death is there; it's a tough place... Not that Beru or Owen- " Luke sensed he was starting to ramble and reined himself in. "She said my faith in my abilities, and the Force, and feeling so protective of the droids and of you, is a healthy way to channel it."

"You feel protective of me?" Leia shook her head. "You shouldn't."

"I know. You're already a secret agent princess and I'm a farmer. I think it was the holomessage. You seemed so vulnerable."

"I was. I was under attack. My whole ship was." There was a detail in Luke's tale Leid didn't expect. "You said she?"

Luke confirmed it with a nod. "She's human."

"Hmm," Leia said. "Did you need an appointment?"

Luke looked like the idea hadn't occurred to him. "I don't think so. I just wandered up. She was packing. We did it pretty quick." He checked his chrono. "We better get going. 'Bout time for the speech."

General Dodonna had referred to the room as the briefing theater. Whatever the room was used for originally, it was clear the architects designed for an audience. Luke and Leia entered together at the rear of the room, and he wove his way down the large stone slabs to take a seat next to Wedge Antilles, the angry wingman, who nodded at him sociably. Leia walked down the broken center aisle, aware that a hush followed her wake.

General Virdal greeted her with a nod, and resumed his pacing. General Dodonna was running a test of the communications equipment with a droid. General Matuux was just entering. He saw Leia, and started to make his way to her.

Han Solo beat him to the front. Leia heard the Wookiee and turned her head; Chewie was on the other side of the aisle, three rows back. Han had probably been seated next to him.

"Oh, Captain..." General Matuux was surprised. He stood behind Han, taking the position of offense. "... Solo is it? This side is reserv-"

Han knocked the side of his head. "My ears," he said with a cluck. "Taken too much fire damage. Can't hear a damn thing."

"My sympathies," General Matuux began, looking to suggest a good spot to hear better other than next to Leia. He placed his hand lightly under Han's elbow. "Perhaps if we ask that gentleman to-"

With a slight twist of his waist and a step forward, Han freed his elbow and switched positions with the general. "And I can't see for shit either," Han said cheerfully. "Mind if I sit here?" he asked Leia.

She arched her brow as he sat, a smug grin on his face. He turned to to her and winked, the second time he had done that. "Part-time con man, you say?" she said.

He chuckled.

General Dodonna quieted the room. "I welcome you as members of the New Republic. We'll listen to the broadcast in a moment. Our first order of business is evacuation."

Someone sniggered, under their breath but it was audible in the acoustics of the theater, "First thing the New Republic does is hightail it out of some place."

Han turned his head around to catch the speaker but Leia maintained her gaze on the general, who was neither amused nor nonplussed. "Good leadership is knowing when to leave," he proclaimed. "If you wish to remain when the Empire arrives, good leadership also knows to make sure you have your cyanide pill. Am I understood?"

There was a murmur, and General Dodonna began to announce the order of evacuation.

Han leaned over toward Leia. "You take out that medscan yet?"

"No." Leia had forgotten.

"You should, you know. They got nice ones here, nothing like that antiquated one you rejected on the _Falcon_."

"I didn't reject it."

"Yes you did."

"I was only..." she pressed her lips together. "I was respecting protocol."

"They didn't."

"They don't know."

"They should have asked. I bet you're sore. Or worse."

She turned her face to observe him. He had a strong jawline, and there weren't as many laughlines as her father's face had. Instead there was a scar across his chin, and his deep set eyes weren't tender or forgiving, and not reciprocating at all. Yet he was the only one to ask.

What if he were to die, she thought out of nowhere. Be killed, by a bounty hunter or a Hutt. Or by a Tie fighter, like Luke could have been. Could still be.

They- she, him and Luke, had seen General Kenobi die. Struck by the red lightsaber blade of Darth Vader. Could she say it had been a good death? Was there such a thing? General Kenobi had not screamed in pain. He had not- now she thought about it- he had been dueling with Vader, but it wasn't a fight for his life. Not like they had, and she remembered the way she reacted to the wall closing in the garbage compactor, their desperate attempts to even hold it back with their bare hands.

Her father, in her dream of the night before, had sat in his chair, where he did all his negotiating. Had he fought for the planet's life? Would he? Would he do something like contact the Emperor, "if you could spare the planet and turn off that laser..."

General Kenobi was struck, and his body had just... crumpled, to the ground. Lifeless, as soon as the blade touched.

The laser had touched Alderaan, and it had... She shook her head slightly, lips grimacing delicately. How do you fight for your life, trapped on a planet?

The answer took her breath away.

You leave.

It could happen to Han, to Luke. It didn't seem like it could; Han next to her was warm, his arms crossed at his chest, and try as she might she couldn't make him look dead, even if Darth Vader marched in right now and recognized him.

General Dodonna stopped talking, and Leia realized she'd heard nothing. She would have to ask C-3PO later to fill her in on the details, what her role was. The lights were dimmed, and Mon Mothma's holographic image appeared, larger than in Leia's message. She was wearing black.

"Citizens of the galaxy," she began.

Leia usually saw her in white, as colleagues in the Senate. Or, the times she had visited Alderaan, but not for a while, not since Leia was a child, she wore other clothing. She liked swirled prints, Leia recalled, or embroidered jackets. Black was for the dead, she realized.

Keeping her voice low, she moved her torso closer to Han and asked, "Do you agree there'll be time to make a complete evacuation?"

"Yeah," he said. "The Imps are gonna waste time making a show of force. And the shielding'll let us know they've arrived, if we're still here."

She nodded, and had to really push to say more. "Like... on Alderaan. There was a shielding system in place. Not strong enough to... to..."

"No," Han agreed, his eyes on the image of Mon Mothma.

"How much t-? Do you think there was time?"

His eyes were on her again like before, long and deep. She liked it. Nobody had touched her, not even Luke, and she had hinted by kissing his cheek. No one could touch a princess; it was out of bounds. Han's eyes were reading her, kind of like a med scan would. Assess and diagnose. But he kept it to himself, whatever he read, and oddly she trusted him to know what to do. It was just his eyes, she thought. He had nice eyes.

Han sighed. "Time enough to get one's affairs in order."

But that was useless, Leia thought. They must have known there would be nothing for anyone to find. Unless he meant call each other, hug each other. Be with each other, when the end came.

"I bet some were able to leave," she said with quiet confidence.

"It's possible," he agreed. "Some probably did."

She nodded. He didn't say anything more, and they listened to Mon Mothma, who was in turns tearful, grimly outraged, and determined. When she finished speaking, General Dodonna addressed the assemblage again.

"Three world systems have seceded from the Empire since her speech first aired," he said. "Emperor Palpatine has refused to acknowledge the actions, saying no one leaves an Empire. He has sent Destroyers to each, for their protection, so he says."

"The bastard," someone muttered. People stood, looking at each other with varying degrees of hope and trepidation, and began to file out of the room.

"The gown was Mon Mothma's," she said quietly to Han as they got to their feet.

"Hm?" he lowered his ear nearer her mouth.

"The gown I wore last night. Remember you were wondering about women?" Both looked around the darkened auditorium, as if some would suddenly appear. "It was hers. She was here, and left it."

"Oh," he whispered back. "Solves that mystery."

"I'm going to get the gown, return it to the inventory," Leia told him as Chewie joined them. "Is the ramp up? I left it aboard the _Falcon_."

Chewie indicated it was, and Leia departed alone. An unsettling gleam was in her eyes, distant and consuming. It was like neurons firing, paths of rationale. From the gown to Leia, from Leia to Mon Mothma, from Mothma to her father. To the base.

 


	8. Observations, IV

Observations, III

 

Dr. Renzatl was not yet used to General Dodonna's gruff manner. Naturally, if she had more interaction with him, then she might understand him better. All she knew- and it wasn't from the man himself, so gossip, really- was that he had pulled himself out of retirement at the behest of Viceroy Bail Organa to head the military command of the fledgling Alliance Army. His gruffness might stem from his position, Dr. Renzatl considered. He had no equal here. And there had been a tremendous amount of pressure. It was always lonely at the top.

The day after the battle, the pressure was gone. His bushy eyebrows were elevated slightly, as if something had taken him by surprise and he hadn't gotten over the shock yet. His manner was somber, weighed down by the fresh losses, and at the same time he was buoyed with an optimism. Dr. Renzatl was touched he had come himself.

The exposed vulnerabilities of the day before caused an awkwardness between them. Dr. Renzatl could remind him how he believed the battle was a failure and he could point out how she had sat on the floor, hiding her head, so they exchanged  brief pleasantries instead. It didn't take General Dodonna long to get to the purpose of his visit. He pulled a bundle of flimsies from an inner coat pocket and bounced them against his palm. He stood there, considering Dr. Renzatl while sucking on a cheek.

"We're taking in Alderaan, or what's left of her," Dodonna finally began without preamble. "I don't know if you watched the transmission."

It was a question, and Dr. Renzatl shook her head no. She had not sat with the rest of the base in the briefing theater while General Dodonna played a re-broadcast of Senator Mothma's speech. Apparently he had noticed she was not in attendance.

"War has its own, very public face," she explained. "I know that's why you had the men gather. But I deal with the inner conflict. Underneath the triumph, one often finds a different war. To inflict such damage, to watch your friends die... it is not so easy the day after."

Dodonna nodded impatiently. "Antilles talked with you."

Dr. Renzatl scowled as much as her lower ranking would allow. Dodonna was chief here. The men were his; they were willing to give their lives. But they kept a piece of themselves, a bit of their souls, and sometimes they entrusted her with it, and she would protect that and never surrender it, not even to the highest command.

"He anticipated his CBA," she said, a little tartly. "It wasn't just for him I stayed away. It was for all of them. War hurts, even for the victor. They might be stomping their feet and cheering, but they are also looking around at each other, wondering if anyone else is feeling a little phony. I couldn't be a part of that group. They need to know that there is a place, someone they can go to, who understands war isn't as simple as right or wrong, good and bad."

"This war is to depose Palpatine," Dodonna declared. "Nothing else. There wouldn't be a need for you or for me if that bastard hadn't messed up the whole galaxy. Blowing up that Death Star wasn't enough. I'm not satisfied; it can't fix what he did to Alderaan."

"Of course not," Dr. Renzatl murmured. "It's affected us all, as citizens of the galaxy. We haven't even begun to comprehend how it will change things."

"It's unreal," General Dodonna barked out. He continued to stew a moment. "Mon Mothma has declared those offplanet at The Time First Citizens of the New Republic. She's setting up a territory for them. I think right now," Dodonna's gray eyes drifted thoughtfully to the horizon, "it's a refugee camp." He eyed her wryly. "Ready to expand your office?"

It was a poor attempt at irony, or maybe an excellent example of it; Dr. Renzatl wasn't sure, but it fell flat, for the both of them. She made no response.

Dodonna handed her a sheet of flimsi and changed the subject abruptly. "Evacuation assignments," he explained. "Pack up your office. Find your name, and be on that transport. Starting tomorrow. Not a terrible hurry. The Empire is reeling from its own loss. The _Executor_   will be conducting the search for us. That's Vader's flagship, and they were waiting for him to rendezvous with it." He tsked. "Damn shame he managed to survive. You don't want to be left behind."

He turned to go. "Oh, that reminds me," and he peeled away two more sheets of flimsi. "We lost a lot of pilots," he said regretfully. "A lot of good men. I'm not going to forget that." It was a way of apology for his bad taste earlier, and Dr. Renzatl accepted it with a nod.

"But," Dodonna continued, "of the three that arrived with the Death Star on their tail, two have joined. Here's their paperwork. I told them to report for CBAs."

Dr. Renzatl took the flimsis and glanced at the top sheet. "Was the third killed?" she assumed.

General Dodonna made a sour face. "No," he said, dripping disapproval. "He flies for hire, and he'll do anything, according to his record. Except, apparently, identify with a cause." He thought something to himself, and then grunted. "You'd probably have a field day with him.

"Evacuation is a priority," Dodonna continued. "We're not observing office hours."

Dr. Renaztl lifted her brows, suspecting Dodonna had just revealed his attitude about TRAD.

"But we need these two in the system. I'd appreciate your flexibility. If they come, see them."

It was an order. "Yes, Sir," Dr. Renzatl answered.

Luke Skywalker came not long after Dodonna had departed. Renzatl had summoned a droid crew to begin the process  of breaking down the office. She was cross-referencing flimsis with transcriptions, ensuring they could be destroyed. Labor droids were removing bolts from the desk. There were still two chairs, and she and Luke dragged them to a far corner to talk. Dr. Renzatl set up the recorder for the transcript and placed a writing board on her lap to make notes with a stylus.

In her first impressions, she noted Luke to be a bit shy, but also a bit bold. He was very young, only nineteen, and his eyes were fresh and wide and blue. He was in uniform, eager to take on this new role as an Alliance pilot. He spoke fluidly about a lot of things and openly, with no concern for anyone else in the room who may overhear.

As he spoke, she realized his biography was remarkable, and then it was not. He was orphaned at birth, which, unfortunately, was not uncommon in this day and age, but he said he "came" to his aunt and uncle- not that he was taken in by them, which Dr. Renzatl found significant- and was raised on their moisture farm on Tatooine.

Neither his aunt nor uncle liked to talk of his parents, Luke told her. (His uncle and Luke's father were stepbrothers). They claimed to not know the identity of his mother, and possibly they lied about his father, but Luke only just found out and wasn't sure if that was true, either.

"The last few days have been a whirlwind," he confessed. "My uncle bought these droids, and one ran away, and it's the droid the Princess stowed the plans to the Death Star in. She and it are why we're here today."

Luke proceeded to tell of chasing the droid across the desert, followed by an attack of natives. Dr. Renzatl was so... entertained, she guessed was the word for it, that her stylus only hovered above the writing board, and she neglected to make a note of the name of this violent group. But at the end of the story, this attack, which would be a life-changing event for most, is tossed in, like a spice, for flavor.

It was almost too much to believe. The mundane against the astounding, the coincidence against random events. Dr. Renzatl began to suspect that Luke lived in a fantasy world. She knew he was the one responsible for destroying the Death Star: even remaining an outsider to those here she had caught enough snatches of awed conversation to learn that much. She also knew he had escaped from the Death Star, but there is only so much extraordinary that can fit in a tale.

Luke was saved by a- again, her face must have held an expression of wonder or disbelief, for he laughed, and said, "I know, it's crazy. But the droid was looking for Ben, a Jedi Knight disguised as the Dune Sea Crazy."

This Jedi Knight, Luke went on to explain, possessed his father's lightsaber, weapon of the Jedi, and claimed to be his father's best friend.

"Why was he there?" Dr. Renzatl had to ask.

Luke's brows shot up. "Why was-?"

"How did your droid know he was there? and why _was_ he there, and why didn't he bequeath you your father's possessions sooner?"

If Luke were the Dune Sea Crazy, and to Dr. Renzatl this was a definite possibility, Luke would have a ready answer. 

Luke stared at her, and his lips parted a bit. "I don't know," he said slowly.

"I certainly don't mean to complicate things," Dr. Renzatl said.

Luke kept frowning. "The droid knew because the Princess told it. She enclosed a message. But-"

Dr. Renzatl wanted to steer Luke away from dwelling on the motivations of the Jedi Knight. This was Luke's session. "Tell me more about your aunt and uncle. You said you came to them. How old were you?"

"A baby. Newborn. Days old, I guess. My aunt said my mother died in childbirth. And she always said it that way. 'When you came to us.' You know, like that. They didn't know about me. I don't think they were close with my parents. I was completely unexpected. My aunt kept me in a drawer." Luke smiled sadly.

"Newborns don't get places by themselves."

"No," Luke agreed. "Maybe Ben brought me," he added brightly. "Maybe he was with my father when he was killed. Leia said he was probably in hiding."

His eyes drifted to the work of the labor droids, as if the neat stacking of boards and bolts could give him a more defined explanation of his origins.

"My aunt and uncle were killed while I was chasing the droid to Ben," he finally said softly.

Dr. Renzatl straightened in her seat and recorded the information. _Now we are getting somewhere,_ she thought to herself. "How did you learn of their deaths?" Often, she knew, a support network developed almost immediately after a sudden death. Neighbors, other relatives, and even friends might step forward to help out.

"I went home." Luke's voice grew hushed. "I saw them. They set my house on fire." His eyes made contact with hers. "I guess the Empire traced the droid to our home, and came out to question my aunt and uncle.

"And you know-" he leaned forward, "they're heroes. Because I was supposed to be home too, we were all supposed to be at work. My uncle was... he was a good man, hard working. Honest. And if he got a sense that the droid was bigger than us, he'd want it to stay that way. Not give him up, or me." Luke nodded to himself. "He put up a fight. I know he did. That's why they're dead. He was tough. And principled. He was leaving me a message. He was telling me, finish this, follow this through. Don't let anyone live their lives that when the doorbell rings and they see the Empire's come calling, that it means they should be afraid or they're gonna die. No one should live like that."

Luke leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "So I went with Ben. My uncle's right. Not past tense. I know he's dead, but anyway he's right. So I'll... it's like he gave me a job, or he's letting me make their deaths matter. You know?" Luke's voice caught. "It was a horrible way to die."

Dr. Renzatl waited for Luke to say more. He was silent for a time. "He gave me that. A job, or, I don't know. A way to, to channel this. I feel like taking action," he grimaced, "it's hard to say what it means, how I feel. But, like I can accomplish something? And that makes it easier? I don't know."

"You don't sound like you are in the whirlwind when you speak of your aunt and uncle," Dr. Renzatl observed.

"What do you mean?"

"You described the past few days as a whirlwind. That phrase, to me, suggests being overwhelmed. But you are very clear in your feelings for them. I sense the loss of your family, your love for them, and how you want to honor them."

Luke nodded. "I guess so," and he looked like he might cry.

She gave him a moment, in case he decided to, but he fought it back. She placed a box of tissues by the toe of his boot just in case. "So what's in the whirlwind?" she prompted.

His hands left his chest and collapsed into his lap. "Me," he said after a time. "Ben."

"How so?"

"I found out I have the Force! I wouldn't believe him about my father being a Jedi, you know 'cause he was The Crazy of the Dune Sea, he might say anything. And I don't know how hard it is to come by a lightsaber- do you? Do you know how many Jedi Knight there were?"

Dr. Renzatl shook her head. "It was an exclusive, specialized group. I assume, not many."

"Right, so, maybe he had one and called it my father's. But he had one, too. And he used it. And he was teaching me, during the flight, and he was- different."

"Different?"

"Not at all like The Crazy! He was full of information, and knowledge, and he was calm, and he made sense. And-" his voice dropped to a whisper, "-and I do have it. The Force. I felt it. I could... feel it. And use it."

Luke looked at Dr. Renzatl sorrowfully. "It's like, all of a sudden, I'm not who I was. All the time, just a moisture farmer, but now I could be a Jedi like my father, and I never knew he was!" Charmingly, Luke's hands swirled all around his head.

"You believe this Ben, then," the doctor observed.

Luke nodded slowly. "I do."

"Then you will pursue the Jedi arts?"

"I'd like to, but I don't know how. Ben- I lost him."

"You lost Ben?"

"Yeah. He... he didn't leave the Death Star with us. He... kind of disappeared."

"Luke," Dr. Renzatl put up a hand. Luke was so eloquent a moment ago and now she wondered again if perhaps he was The Dune Sea Crazy. "I'm not sure I understand. One doesn't disappear without more to the story. Was he captured? Did he escape? Do you think it's possible you'll hear from him again?"

"Oh, yeah," Luke was very sure. "I already did. In here," he pointed to his chest. "But I don't think I will very often. I tried earlier, and there's nothing."

Luke seemed to be slipping even further. Dr. Renzatl only looked at him with her brows up, waiting to see what else he might offer.

"Ben gave me something, too," Luke said. "Like my uncle." He smiled broadly. "You look like you think I'm crazy. And believe me, I know why I'm here. But if I don't say this now, if I don't state it as fact, then I think the Jedi will never be able to come back. Knowledge of the Force will be dead.

"Ben is dead, too," he said.

"Go on," the doctor encouraged, glad to hear some reality injected into his story.

"We saw him struck down by Darth Vader. You know how when someone dies beings all sit around and tell stories? Share memories?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Well, it's like that, only it's not a memory; it's life. Mind you, I've only had a couple of days to think about this, but death has as much," Luke was concentrating fiercely, " _presence_ as life, does that make sense? First one, then the other. Like a state of existence. And it's not something to fear, and it's a change you don't have to want or like, but it doesn't have to break your heart, you know?"

Luke sighed and pushed against the back of his chair with his own back. He gazed thoughtfully at the wall across from him. "I wish I could tell that to Leia. I don't know if that explanation fits, though. This is the best I've expressed it, but I don't know if it's enough."

Luke sulked in silence and Dr. Renzatl sought a way to prompt him. "When you say 'Leia'..."

"Leia," Luke said again, as if that's all required to know. "The Princess from Alderaan."

 "Oh," Dr. Renzatl exclaimed, caught up. She'd never heard the name without the title. "Princess Leia. Yes, I know who you mean. Do you think it's different, as you've explained the Force to me, a difference in a personal death compared to a genocide of millions?"

"I'm worried about her," he said, barely listening, then added, showing he was listening, "it's not different. I mean, it is, by numbers and, and the evil. You know my aunt and uncle were killed like that, slaughtered. Burned. That... motive, on the killer's part. Is that what it is? Motive? Or just that they were able to do it. Something in them so cruel and callous and uncaring. _That's_ what makes me sad, that someone could lack any feeling or regard for another."

"What about the men who served on the Death Star? It seems you bear the burden for costing them their lives. "

"I'm not... uncaring, if that's what you're after."

"I'm not after anything. Do you hate them as your enemy?"

Luke shifted in his seat, eyes directed toward the floor. "They are the enemy, and I guess that's what war is. But, really what it comes down to, is they believe in something, and they signed up to protect what they believe in."

"As you did."

"Right. And, for all of us-" Luke's eyes lifted to the doctor's- "we know there's a risk. We have to assume the risk that fighting for what we believe in can kill us. So, no. I don't _hate_ them. I'll do what I have to to win, if it means they die... I hate the men that killed my aunt and uncle, because they weren't part of this war. They were just farmers, not risking anything. And they were murdered."

"So for you the concept of duty is very clear."

 "Yes."  Luke changed the subject abruptly."Is it possible to get worse?"

"Are you talking about murderers? There are some who-"

"No, I mean Leia. She's worse."

"Worse, how?"

"Well, when we first met her, she was all spitfire. She could sum up a situation in a blink of an eye and she had a real sharp tongue. She and Han-" Luke broke off, chuckling. "Anyway, when we left the Death Star, she seemed driven. It was all about "reach the base" _._ It was a long trip, and that's what she focused on. But, since we've been here, she's different. She's quieter, and her eyes aren't as bright. This dull brown. It's like, the Death Star is gone, and she doesn't know what to do."

"It's possible that's exactly how it is for her. Grieving is a very complex, multi-layered process." Dr. Renzatl was aware she was falling into the pattern of lecturing, but it was exciting to talk to this young man. His story was incredible, but he also possessed an innate sense of the human nature. And she was old enough to remember the Jedi. She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"It's never only about sadness," she continued. "A being may feel anger, or guilt. Given who your friend is, she might have all those complicated emotions on a personal level, and then also as a princess."

"Yeah," Luke agreed morosely. "I wish I could help better. I'm just there, you know. If she wants to talk, but she never will. Han does a little better. He makes these distractions she can't help notice and she'll get mad. He knows what he's doing, too, I've seen the look come in his eye."

"Who?"

"Han. The other one on the Death Star with us. He calls himself a part-time con man, but I don't think he's trying to get anything out of her other than a reaction. Not any more money, anyway."

Dr. Renzatl smiled slightly at Luke, who continued to rattle off descriptions of his two new friends. It came to her attention that she had been introduced to the third newcomer, the one General Dodonna thought she would have a field day with, and felt a twinge of regret that she wouldn't have a chance to talk with him.

"A con man and a Princess," she remarked. "How do you see yourself?"

"Between them," Luke grinned. "Oh, you mean like by a label?" Luke shrugged. "I don't know. I don't see Princess as better, or smuggler- he smuggles, too- as worse. I'm a farm boy. And I feel like, they're important. Important to me, 'cause they helped me-"

"Did they? Help you?"

"Oh, yeah. We made sure we all stayed alive, you know. Watched out for each other."

"And what about now?"

"Now...yeah." Luke nodded to himself. "I know the Death Star was a time. I know Han wants to leave, and I know Leia's gonna be the Princess again. I'm the one who'll change. I'm not the farm boy anymore. I don't know who I'll wind up being, I know what I want, but all I know so far is I won't be the farm boy ever again."

"You want to be a Jedi. How does that fit in between a Princess and a con man?"

"It fits the same," Luke insisted. "And-" he flushed, "- you're probably going to ground me for this-"

Dr. Renzatl smiled. "Tell me anyway."

Luke smiled shyly. "It doesn't feel like an accident, a one time thing. We were talking last night- Han and Leia and me- I brought this up, how Ben, the Crazy of the Dune Sea, each of our paths led to him, and he led us here. Like," Luke shook his head, "I'm not gonna say it was supposed to happen, but," he stopped, and held Dr. Renzatl's eyes, his own clear and frank and awed, "it did."

"They mean something to you," she told him. 

Luke's body trembled. "Is that what it is?" he asked. "My friend Biggs did too, but knowing him was like knowing me, my life, nothing extraordinary, you know. I loved him, but he was like me. I woke up, he did too, we went to school. Han and Leia," Luke paused to think, "they're not me at all. One is so far above me. I can't even imagine what her life was like. And her planet is gone- that's just unfathomable. And Han's life- being on the run, needing to wear a blaster all the time 'cause he thinks someone's going to shoot him," Luke shook his head again. "I don't get it. But yeah," he finished softly, "they mean something to me. I needed their help, and if I'm around when they need mine, I'll be there. Because... because I want to."

Dr. Renzatl cleared Luke for duty while he talked on. Possibly she was wrong. She had to question herself, was he in denial, or had the trauma he suffered caused a delusional break? If so, then he was very clever to maintain the ruse, and while he had a certain intelligence, she didn't think he was capable of keeping the smokescreen. Despite a bizarre story, Luke was warm and compassionate and she believed him. Life had put him into the situation of trying to figure himself out, and he'd already come farther than most do before they die.


	9. Despair, I

The _Falcon_ was a safe place, a good place. Leia didn't know what it meant to be safe, not anymore; it was a feeling. An instinct.

 _Safe from all out there,_  was what she was thinking.

She twisted around from the top of the ramp to view what was behind her. Was she that scared of suck sand? She didn't really think so. It was frightening stuff, to be sure, but the paths were marked and she knew about it. And the ship couldn't really keep her safe from it, unless she never left it. Which, admittedly, had a certain appeal. It was like a retreat.

She suspected the answer, the real answer, was...

Perhaps she worried about the Empire, out there somewhere like a gathering storm, and she had a history with the Empire connected with the _Falcon_. She- they- had escaped. Together, damaged but functioning, and they had an inner strength derived from the burning desire to achieve...

It was the last thing she had accomplished. Her arrival here marked the end of Princess Leia. She was like that little butterfly, she realized with a pang, the one she saw at the window in her father's conference room.

It occurred to her she really knew nothing anymore. What she did know- that it was she that was supposed to be dead; not millions, not her father- was in error. It wiped everything else about her away. What was beautiful, what was true: she could no longer say.

There was a certain _tradition_ in war. Traitors were executed, not planets. Mixed in with her self doubt was a seething anger at Grand Moff Tarkin, that he would be the one to turn her into this... this person she had become, unsure and harsh but frightened and confused.

Did she recognize herself on the _Falcon_? Was that why she liked to be here?

The _Falcon_ wasn't her assigned evacuation transport, and she wasn't pleased about that. Leia wasn't pleased about anything concerning the evacuation. Her only task, after checking with C-3PO and then double checking with General Dodonna, was to board the correct transport, tomorrow. The hours ahead seemed interminable and difficult, and she didn't want to do it.

But again, she couldn't settle on what exactly bothered her. Was it she didn't want to evacuate? Didn't want to wait? Didn't want to board a strange transport? None of those made any sense though the answers came meekly: _yes, yes, yes_ , and she scolded herself sternly. She was being ridiculous.

She had come to get the gown. She had brought it here to keep Mati safe. That was the only thing Leia knew how to do. The moment Luke had suggested they move to the _Falcon_ , Leia scooped the gown up. Because when Mati opened the box of her son's belongings, the white gown could absolutely not be there.

Leia had removed it so the droids wouldn't pack it with the deck of cards, or the candy, or his letter to his mother. Leia wanted Mati to only cry, and if she pulled the gorgeous shimmer silk gown out of the box, she would whisper to her son, _what is this, John?_ And she would rub the expensive shimmer silk between her fingers, and it would open a hole of doubt and insecurity. _Don't I know you, John? I am your mother._ The rest of her life, Mati would wonder why. And she would miss her son, but sometimes, she would resent him. And sometimes, she would question his love.

She could leave the gown here. Leia considered it, folded neatly on the floor. Captain Solo would probably not care. Mon Mothma might not either, though the gown was no doubt expensive. He might sell it, or cut it up for polishing rags. Or he might leave it whole, and wait for her to be able to return it to Mon Mothma.

It was so elegant and lovely. So very out of place. Still, even with putting a name to the gown. Mon Mothma was a sophisticated woman, with measured, thoughtful phrasing. Leia could picture her wearing it. But here? On a rough-hewn base of ancient stone and suck sand? Did General Dodonna schedule some weird cocktail party? Was her father invited? Did they hold an earlier awards ceremony?

 _Listen to yourself_ , Mon Mothma had advised. _Your father is dead_ , Mon Mothma as much as said. _Alderaan's children are scattered across the galaxy_. Like the rubble of the planet, Leia told herself, only we don't have the gravity of the sun to hold us in one place.

 _I need you here,_  Mon Mothma said. She was suggesting Leia, with her experience and training as Princess and Senator, emerge, essentially as the new sun. Blaze a path toward a new life.

 _I came to return the gown_ , Leia answered Mon Mothma. _It's all I can do right now._ She thought she could trace the gown to her father, but as she looked at it, it seemed to echo Mon Mothma in her father's voice. _I am dead,_ and Leia was scared to make the statement real.

Mon Mothma had left it behind. She was careful in her thinking but careless with her belongings. And Leia was a princess who had lost her planet. Somehow the two seemed very related.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yavin 4 was many things. Warm air and stone temples, fertile jungle and flashes of yellows and reds from the creatures that lived among the trees, hidden in the green vines.

Yet if Leia was to sit down and color a picture, it would be brown suck sand.

She drifted outside, and watched her feet to make sure she didn't wander into any of the sucksand patches. Somehow, she thought, of anything, that would be the death of her. She wouldn't be able to fight it, only avert her eyes and mouth as she slowly disappeared.

She was suffering and she knew it, but she resisted the Captain's insistence on getting a medical check up. What ailed her wouldn't show up on a medscan. If a med droid asked what her symptoms were, and she would only tell a droid, for a being would not be so understanding. She would tell the droid, "The Empire crumpled up my soul in their fist and put it in a waste bin."

In a way she wanted to keep the sluggishness and the aches. It wasn't that she deserved it, or earned it even- she deserved something; not a medal, but perhaps a scar. She only thought of that because the Captain had one, quite visible across his chin. And she'd heard a few ask him,  _How did you get that_ \- and he was so obviously tired of the question he gave different versions. No, even a scar could be perceived as valiant and she would never explain to them. They had to _know_ , right off when they looked at her, how damaged she was, how much damage she had caused.

And her father was...gone. Most likely, that is; she still didn't know for sure. Only his continued absence the rest of her life would tell her he hadn't survived, and she'd only just started the rest of her life. On her deathbed, she confirmed to herself, and she would finally understand it. In her last words, she might finally be able to admit how her father died in the explosion.

But not yet. Not until-

If the Empire killed him, then not until the Empire was dead, too.

After wandering through three of the smaller temples Leia found the place where droids were readying shipment. This was another cavernous room, but different. The floor was earthen, not stone. Out of habit she checked for the telltale sign of suck sand. The walls narrowed as they rose, until there was a small square hole in the center at the top. Whatever the room had been, it was now a warehouse for the Alliance. Numerous items were spread out on the floor, and a series of crates was arranged along a side wall by a droid driving a forklift.

It was all droids, and Leia lifted her chin resolutely. She would get something done today.

"Excuse me," she stopped a labor droid holding a scan gun, and took a long look around. Much of it were items that belonged to the dead, she realized. John D. Branon's deck of cards was here somewhere.

"I have something for the inventory catalog," she told the labor droid. "I was told it belongs to Senator Mon Mothma."

"Checking," the labor droid said. After a moment, it announced, "There is no Mon Mothma stationed at this base."

"I know." It was almost funny, the way Mon Mothma's name, so famous, meant nothing because it wasn't on the list. It seemed to be too much detail to explain to the droid how she came in possession of the gown, so she merely held it up and asked, "does this have an item number?"

The droid read the scan result. "Ah," it said. "This came from VDQ."

"VDQ?"

"Visiting Dignitary's Quarters. Yes, a Mon Mothma was given the access code. She used it four times."

"May I - did Bail Organa have access to the VDQ?" Leia asked nervously.

"A Viceroy Organa is listed." The droid's orange photoreceptors focused on Leia. "Human male. One use."

"He's my father. Did he," she took a bracing breath, "did he leave... is there anything in the inventory as belonging to Viceroy Organa?"

"The room's contents are shipped together."

"I see." Leia thought a moment. "May I inspect the contents?"

"Processing request," the droid announced. Leia waited patiently. She much preferred to be dealing with a droid right now rather than a human.

"I see nothing regarding inspection, as irregular as the request is," the droid decided. "You may," and it led her over to a crate.

"Thank you," Leia told the droid. "I'll put the gown in." She got to her knees and lifted the lid off the crate.

There was a third dignitary that used the room, but since Leia had not asked she had not been told. She could guess, though. Gial Ackbar, the commanding officer of the Mon Calamari navy.

Ackbar's things were easy to identify: a spare globe helmet for breathing water, a set of clear tubes, some hydrating cream. Leia carefully lifted them out and set them aside. He would need them in good condition the next time he came.

Maybe the room was set up to meet the needs of those who would have access to it. Most of the Alliance members consisted of humans, but the Mon Calamari contributed warships and leadership staff. 

Other items Leia recognized for human use. There were several tooth brushes, one razor, and several blazers that bore the Alliance insignia. She put them to her nose, hoping to be able to recognize her father's cologne, but she got nothing from them. She contemplated the razor a moment, thinking of her father's carefully shaped beard.

Mon Mothma's presence was identifiable. Evidently, she was not an organized packer. She had at one time or another left behind one sock, a scarf, and a data board charger.

At the bottom, almost unnoticed except for a hard bulge she couldn't smooth out under a blazer, Leia found a holocube. She rolled it around her fingers. _Oh, Pati,_ she breathed.

It was undeniably her father's, because of its contents. He had made one visit. And he had dropped the holocube, or left it behind, or maybe sat it on the bedside table, ready for his gaze upon his next visit.

He traveled with pictures of her. Her and her mother. She hadn't known that about him. He hadn't traveled much lately; he had to be careful, but discovering that he brought tokens of his love was unexpected treasure. It was a gift from beyond the grave. Something spiritual.

The were six holos. One of Leia as a little girl, running down a hill, her eyes watching the ground; Leia being sworn in as Senator; an official royal portrait of the family; and one of just her mother and father together. Leia looked longingly at the holo of her mother sitting in their private parlor, biting on a stylus and fake-snarling; in fact, Leia remembered that moment. The royal recorder had a new holomaker and he snapped a picture, just to test it out.

The last holo was curious. It was old; her father's hair was still dark, so it must have been taken years ago. He was standing, shaking hands with... Leia had to peer closely... Sheev Palpatine. The man in the picture looked nothing like the Emperor of today. He was actually not a bad-looking man, Leia considered fairly, when he was young. Palpatine blamed the Jedi for his ugly appearance now, and it was easy to see why people of the time would believe that. Obviously something had happened to turn his flesh like that.

She had a guess why her father had a picture of Palpatine. He was reminding himself of what had been, what should be. The holocube was the only deeply personal item in the crate. Her father had left his love behind, his ideas, his determination.

Beyond her control, her chin quivered, and sudden tears blurred the images of the holos. Leia swiped at her eyes angrily with a sleeve. She felt close to him right now, and that was not a sad thing. What was sad was-

She needed a few deep breaths, and something to occupy her mind. She watched the labor droids at work, and when she was calm again tucked the cube into her palm and walked back to the droid in charge with her sleeves long, hiding her hands. The scan code, attached with a weak adhesive, was larger than the cube itself and rubbed against her skin.

"How will all the items belonging to the dead be sent to family members?" she asked. 

"All items will be transported to the new base. From there, belongings of the deceased will be processed. It will take some time. General Dodonna has ordered that we attract as little attention as possible by shipping in small amounts from different locations."

"What if- what if the... what if circumstances changed," Leia had to press her lips together, "and the shipping address is different. My father is... my father is also," she had to swallow, "deceased. And, the place to send his things, it's probably Alderaan, our residence at Aldera, and that is also..." The droid waited patiently while Leia gathered her thoughts. "May I claim them?"

"In the event of death the inventory is shipped according to the instructions set out by the deceased before death. You may resubmit a location, but you must show proof of death and establish your relationship to the deceased. If you wish to claim the items from base of service, proof of death as well as claim identity must be established."

Leia was familiar with the instructions. She and Luke had listed the _Millennium Falcon_ as the final destination of their worldly goods.

"I..." It seemed futile. "I have no proof," she said. Leia was adopted; she couldn't even offer a genetic test to prove her relation to Bail Organa. "Is it possible the VDQ items can ship with me, as I am also going to the next destination."

The droid made a whirring sound. She had upset the programming, she saw. These were labor droids. Create scan labels, tag, and stow.

The droid spoke, "In the event of death the inventory is shipped according to the instructions set out by the deceased-"

She suddenly needed to stop. "Never mind," she told the droid. "It's all right. I'll- since we're evacuating, I understand you have your job to do. I can wait. I'll wait."

"Certainly. Thank you for visiting the Department of Personal Effects. "

"Thank you."

"Certainly."

Leia ripped the scan code off as she made her exit.

 

 


	10. Aspects

Once, Leia had been familiar with the idea of rest. But now, like eating or bathing- living, when it came down to it- she wondered, after everyone turned in, and they left her alone, what exactly she was supposed to do. What they expected of her. 

She lay down on top of the sheet, still in her Death Star dress, her eyes wide at the ceiling, and she tried not to think. It seemed she did not deserve sleep. And then her body would betray her, for suddenly a voice warned her awake, _Leia!_ which meant she had been asleep. 

Sleep and wakefulness, so opposite and sudden. Like the difference between consciousness and death, Leia thought. When the laser touched Alderaan all those lives were snuffed. 

_I am not dead._

Her eyes traced the ceiling through the darkness, the smooth flatness, the rivets holding the panels in place. 

_Sleep is different than death. I am not dead._

She was breathing, conscious. Someday she would be dead, and she wondered what it would be like, to die. What it had been like for her father, for everyone. Her body was on top of a sheet, and she was aware of it, and imagined it shutting down, little by little, into death, as her mother's had done seven years ago. 

Sometimes twelve year old Leia couldn't tell where the line separating mother and queen was drawn. The queen was not scared to die. Alderaan's history contained more than a thousand years of queens, and Breha Organa was content to have her time. But as a mother... Leia had seen something in her mother's eyes; she thought it was reluctance even though her mother did not fight. Hindsight told her Breha was scared for her daughter. 

"Death will always join a family at some point," Breha wiped her daughter's tears away. "I can think of two constants in a family," she continued, "though there may be more. Death and love. Leilei. Look at me," and she lifted her daughter's chin. "Love doesn't die. And I love you."

 _But a laser, Mati,_ Leia thought in her bunk.  _Murder_. _Genocide. So different than an illness._

Her father had sent the twelve maidens out of the queen's chamber. They had not wanted to leave. Some were crying. Leia had followed them out. Her father's dark head, bent low to her mother's face, her hand in his, turned. "Leia?" he said, pleading in his eyes.  _Stay,_ he was saying. 

She stood outside with the maidens and listened to them cry quietly, and looked at her feet, because she was not crying. 

Her mother had said goodbye to her already, when she knew there was no saving her. Outside with the maidens, Leia was grateful. When her mother said goodbye, she had been the woman Leia knew. Still cognizant, loving, and the- Leia felt bad for thinking this, because it wasn't a terrible... it was just... death's process- the odor hadn't started to issue from her mother's body yet. 

In there, with her father... he was frightened, and so were the maidens, but Leia wasn't. Her mother was already gone, before the body's last breath. Leia knew it. She was a child. She wasn't a coward. She just wanted her mother, and the... the... how to say it? 'Body' sounded so crude, 'being' wasn't quite right, but whatever-  _whoever-_ was on that bed was not her mother. 

It was death. 

Leia was not afraid of death. Not then, and not now. 

Death does what it is supposed to do. 

She was afraid now, and she recognized the emotion as an intellectual exercise, and sought how to banish it. She needed to identify it first. Afraid of dying? Of lasers, or murder? Of being alone and having nothing? Of helplessness.

Watching, she decided. Watching a laser, which would murder so many as one planet; watching from afar as all those healthy beings were going about their days, dying and they weren't aware of it. Leia was watching, and she was helpless to do anything about it.

Worse if they were aware. As Viceroy, her father would calm the populace. Probably, he had lied to them about the scope of the disaster. Let them think there was a chance. Seek shelter, he might advise. A cellar. Go to the underground speeder routes. And there they would huddle, and wait; scared, yes, but hopeful too, that there was a chance, a chance they might survive this.

Maybe her father even believed it. The Death Star was the first of such laser technology. At the time Tarkin said, "You may fire when ready," it was a gamble how successful it would be.

Her memories- every time she had one, and since she had nothing else all she did was think of the past- they were a lie. Her mind showed her images, of a little butterfly at a window, of the servants going about their day in the palace, and everything was pointless. Twelve hundred years of civilization turned pointless when Princess Leia stood on the bridge of the Death Star, Darth Vader's fingers digging into her shoulders as their gazes beheld the planet Alderaan, and Grand Moff Tarkin's voice, so smooth and cultured, said, "You may fire when ready." He had chided her, "You are far too trusting."

No. Leia was aware she'd been cheated from seeing him aware of his own last moments, of seeing him afraid. Not too trusting. Too... How he  _ruined_ everything, and her fists clenched the sheet on the bunk of the _Falcon_. That his ambition, so trivial in the face of a servant cleaning the chambers, was what threatened to destroy her. And she can't stop seeing him, that gaunt face, self-satisfied and triumphant,  _you may fire-_

_Leia!_

Leia held her body still while her heart thumped so loud she couldn't hear if there was more. It sounded like a warning, but she didn't recognize the voice. Maybe it was her own. 

The soles of her feet burned. It had to be imaginary pains; the interrogation drugs had time to work through her body by now, but there was no going back to sleep. 

She ventured out, the floor blessedly cool against her bare feet, and found her way to the lounge. The ramp was up, and she could hear Han's voice outside once or twice as she moved through the ship, talking with someone about hyperdrive systems. The ship's interior lights were set to low, but it was bright enough to see Luke sitting at the holochess table. 

His feet were up on the bench, his neck craned upward so his eyes were directed at the ceiling.

He noticed her. "Did I wake you?"

She felt groggy, a little disembodied as the voice still rang in her ears. "No." She shook her head. "I don't think so. Unless- did you call my name?"

Luke moved his head from side to side, and the hair against the metal plating rose up with static electricity. "I was thinking about you," he said, and grinned ruefully, "but I don't think that loud." He moved his feet so she could sit. 

"Chewie, lower the deck plate," Han ordered from outside. 

"Han's working," Luke said. 

"At this time of night?" Leia said.

"Night shift has loads for him. They want everything ready for tomorrow."

The upcoming evacuation silenced them both. They listened for a time at the noises outside the ramp. There were slaps of heavy things dropped, one word shouts, Chewie growling. 

"Only been two nights here," Luke said finally. "Feels like forever."

"It does," Leia agreed, but she wondered if she would remember these days of inaction years from now.

"Do you drink?" Luke asked.

"For occasions," Leia answered. She was becoming used to his directionless talk. "On occasion. With dinner. Do you?"

"Well," he looked wryly at a glass in front of him on the table, "I started. Han's got some stuff. Want some?"

"Sure." After Luke had served her and resumed his seat, she said, "You shouldn't have much. You're flying?"

Luke nodded as he swallowed. "Been nursing this one. Wedge warned me."

"How is he?"

Luke's voice was high and light. "Good." He was lying probably.

Leia took a sip. It wasn't like the wines Alderaan had produced. A deep gold, and she expected it to be syrupy thick, but it wasn't. Rough on her throat, but followed with a sweetness. "Are you good?"

Luke shrugged. "I guess. Yeah." He laughed once, bitterly. "Think that counselor ruined me."

Leia jerked her head up, alarmed. "Why do you say that?"

"She was asking about things. Aspects, I think she called them. If I have nightmares, or can't sleep, or startle at noises." Luke drank. "And here I am, can't sleep."

"It's just this one night," Leia soothed.

"Yeah."

"Will you tell her?"

"No. Wedge had a nightmare. That's why I'm here. He didn't want me to stay. Not going to tell her that, either."

Leia almost shared with Luke about the voice, about her mother, but it seemed he wasn't really sleepless; the issue was Wedge's nightmare. 

From outside they heard Han say, merry and awake, "If I added up all the light years I traveled..." and laughter followed before he'd even finished. 

"Han doesn't know about my aunt and uncle," Luke said. 

Again, Leia's head jerked up. "He doesn't?"

"He might now, but not from me. That was _Before_ Death Star. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't know him. And After Death Star, I told any one I met, and I already met him, so he missed it." He laughed that bitter laugh once again.

"Part of the debriefing," Leia said.

"Ben knew."

"I'm sure he was supportive," Leia murmured.

"I don't know," Luke took a sip and swirled it in his cheek a long time. "He kept me busy on the ship. Started lightsaber training."

"On the ship?"

"Yeah. Han has this remote targeting thing." Luke shrugged. "Guess he practices while in hyper. I suppose a smuggler's got to stay sharp."

"Busy so you wouldn't dwell," Leia suggested. 

Luke nodded. "I thought that, too. But I think... he was relieved to get off Tatooine. Like a chapter closed. They were dead, he got me, and he could leave."

Leia was interested. "You think he had his own agenda?"

Luke was still nodding. "He was trying to get me away before I knew they'd been killed. And once offplanet, he started right in with the lessons, like it was an important hurry."

Leia watched Luke study the liquid in his glass. "Luke, are you troubled?"

He took a deep breath. "So many questions, you know?"

"Yes."

"You, too." Luke slid his glass back and forth on the table's surface. "Ben felt Alderaan, you know, when it happened. I thought he was about to faint. He said he heard a million voices-" Luke broke off. "I'm not sure that helps."

Leia's lips twitched wryly. "It doesn't."

"Want to hear something else? I asked Dodonna if I could go home-"

"Go home?" Leia interrupted, unable to hide her disappointment and envy. 

"For the Darklighters," Luke said. "I want to let them know about Biggs. Make it right for them."

"Oh," Leia relaxed a little and took a sip. "That's very kind of you." She was sure she knew the answer, but she asked anyway. "What did General Dodonna say?"

"'No'," Luke kept his lips rounded, though the word was clipped. Leia couldn't help but smile a little at him. "He said leave is for family. The Darklighters are like family, though; Biggs and me-" he flipped a palm. "And furlough isn't earned until after a year, if I live that long."

"You think you won't either?"

"We're closer to death than we are to life, don't you think?" Luke said, his eyes hangdog. "That's beside the point. He said-"

"What are you two doing?" Han entered the lounge, peeling off a pair of gloves and tucking a portion into his belt. He surveyed the scene before him. 

Luke raised his glass. "Having a drink."

"Well, don't just sit there," Han ordered. "Pour me one, too. Move over, sweetheart." He was partially seated before Leia had a chance to scurry away, and she had to tug her gown away from under Han's leg. 

"Don't sit on me," she groused, her cheeks warm. Had he called her that before? She should say something, speak up. But he had come back, and given her berth. He could be long gone, or if he was sticking around for a charter he could treat Luke and Leia as delivered cargo and hang out with the pilots, making space talk. But he didn't. Instead he practically sat on her.

"Here you go, Han." Luke slid a glass over to him. 

Both Leia and Luke watched Han take a deep drink and swallow with satisfaction.

"Aren't you flying tomorrow?" Luke said.

"Who says I can't enjoy a drink or three before lifting off?" Han demanded. 

"I guess you say."

"Finish about General Dodonna, Luke," Leia reminded Luke of their previous conversation. 

"Oh, yeah. He said I can't go, except with the Alliance, because they can keep me safe. Apparently, Darth Vader learned my name."

Again, Leia felt that odd mix of envy and disappointment. "How?" she wanted to know. 

"I don't know." Luke shrugged. "They put two and two together, I guess. From tracking the droids on Tatooine. Any moisture farmer could tell a trooper the names of those living in the Lars homestead. I sure hope the Darklighters are okay."

Han frowned. "I thought your name was Skywalker." 

"It is. I lived with my aunt and uncle." Luke slid his eyes to Leia meaningfully. "And maybe they got a school picture, and matched it to the footage from the Death Star security cameras."

Han poured himself another drink. "Just shows the Empire can navigate bureaucracy better than it can shoot a target."

Luke grunted appreciatively. 

"You know, there's something you can do for the Darklighters," Leia said. "There's a department of personal effects here. The droids have an inventory catalog. You can add something to your friend's."

"Add what?"

"Like a letter. Whatever you wanted them to know in person, you can write it down and it will be sent with his belongings."

"Oh," Luke said eagerly. "That's an idea! I think I will."

"If there's time," Leia added. "They had a good deal packed already."

"You can make the droids undo it," Han said. "Droids don't complain. A human would, but not a droid."

"3PO would," Luke and Leia said together. 

"Write a letter to Darth Vader while you're at it," Han half-joked. 

Luke smiled. "Leave it where he can find it after we're gone."

"No," Leia said. "Put it on the suck sand."

"And say what?" Luke pondered. "'Dear Lord Vader. You may be congratulating yourself that you have learned my name. But the whole galaxy has congratulated me for being Red Five.'"

"That pretty much is true," Leia allowed graciously. "The Empire has got to be unnerved."

"Palpatine's spinning in his hover ball," Han said. 

"What hover ball?" Luke asked. "I never heard anything about a hover ball."

"How he gets around," Han said. "One of those ridiculous stories."

"It's not true? We don't hear anything in the Outer Rim."

"It's not true." Han turned to Leia, appraising her up and down. "Your Heightness, you want to sleep in something other than that dress?"

"Who said I'm sleeping in this dress?" Leia retorted. It felt good- it felt familiar, to have a swift response.

"Oh," Han straightened against the bunk, trying to hide a smile, "You didn't have to dress on our account, then."

"Move," Leia ordered him. "I'm going back to the bunk."

"Me, too," Luke said. "I want to get moving and win this war, but I am glad for the couple of days here with you guys. It's been helping me." He shook his head good-humoredly. "Write a letter to Vader," he simpered. "I don't know if you feel the same, Leia, but... it... not normalizes things, but it does make it feel... manageable. Biggs would do that, too."

Luke turned to Han. "Han, I don't know if you knew. The Empire killed my aunt and uncle. Over the droids."

"Yeah. I heard."

"I wanted you to know it from me. G'night, Leia. G'night, Han."

"'Night, kid."

"Goodnight, Luke." 

 


	11. Despair, II

Despair, II

 

Orange, and black and white. Gray mandibles, like a beetle's, or wings that fold up and down. Leia is dry. She hasn't shed a tear since. Not since. At night her father sits in his chair and her mother fake snarls for the camera and she can take them further, out of the palace; into the garden, strolling in perfect golden sunlight. There are always maidens who follow but Leia dismisses them, because...

Because she should have sent them away sooner.

But she can't think of that, nor of anyone who lived in the palace with them just because it was their job.

And she's been... able. During the day she doesn't see any faces. She has Luke, and the war, just the small part they'll let her wage after the Death Star, and she has listened to Mon Mothma declare war over and over again, and she counts the planetary systems that have left the Empire. She went once to the _Falcon_ to use the medscan because... because the feelings went away, the soreness, and she-

She has the Captain too, whose eyes are on her and dark, and after he lets her use the medscan she finds a reason to return to the hangar and help inventory the freight he'll be carrying. He's private and Dodonna won't spare a Supervisor of Lade.

And then comes the moment the bays are full and closed, and Luke is wearing the flight suit and she tells herself _don't cry, don't cry_ because they want to separate them. Luke is willing and Han shrugs like it's normal and she doesn't quite understand herself why her heart is breaking, only that it is.


	12. Resistance, I

"Don't you have some Princess work to do?"

Han meant nothing by it, Leia noted; his question didn't contain the underlying belligerence or self-defense she'd noticed on the Death Star. He was simply curious why Princess Leia of Alderaan was stopping crates from being loaded onto a smuggling freighter like the  _Falcon_ , asking for the lid to be removed, counting the contents and making sure the amounts corresponded with what was marked on the inventory screen displayed on the crate. 

He wasn't so meticulous. He checked the screen, and marked off on his own data board that it was stowed, but he didn't check the contents to make sure the inventory was correct. 

"I'm curious as to your idea of Princess work," Leia responded dryly, in the same tone she would use in the Senate to put someone in their place. 

 _Princess work_ , she thought. If it were today, which it was, but not the same today as it should have been... she took a big breath. The Senate would still be in session. Leia would wake in the family apartment on Coruscant, and she would check her schedule with the two maidens who helped her coordinate the day.

She had two maidens, she thought suddenly. Two. On Alderaan she'd have twelve, but some had curious duties, like linens. They must have been bored, she thought now. 

She shook her head, getting back to the day. Two maidens was not excessive. One managed the social calendar and the other her business calendar. She would eat, dress, go to the chambers. Mon Mothma's chair would be empty, but she might send a vote in by proxy. Then it was meetings. Listen to pleas by offworld Alderaani. She remembered meeting the parents of a young student at the University of Coruscant. He had disappeared. The parents felt it had something to do with his recent anti-Imperial rhetoric; the father had warned him. "You can't call attention to the Empire without calling attention to yourself," the father told his son. They asked Leia to intercede because they felt that the authorities weren't doing enough, they weren't serious enough.

Their hands were so expressive, she remembered. The way they held them out, imploring her, asking her to take their weight of worry, of fear. They had traveled all the way from Alderaan...

"'There once was a queen," Han recited, "and the last time she was seen, she was in her tower, counting her power. But the king stole her ring; in a fury she was led, and so she chopped off his head.' Like that," Han finished. 

"What even is that?" Leia shook her head bemusedly. "There's no mention of a princess. And the cadence is wrong." He had distracted her from the count, and then she had realized the today that should be today would be different anyway, because she was on that diplomatic tour, and she would be heading back to Alderaan...  

"It's a... I don't know," Han said. "Kids say it on Corellia. They hold hands and turn in a circle, and when the king loses his head they fall."

"Monarchs don't-" she stopped, because she was going to say _behave like that where I'm from_ , and she couldn't get the words out. All of a sudden, she had no more 'where she was from'; it was an odd feeling, punishing. The place was gone, and it seemed so also were the things she couldn't touch? 

It was like a curse; it kept her from talking. Things taken, or prevented. Someone- who, she had no idea, for how could a planet judge someone; the goddesses perhaps- had sentenced her.

"But then the Corellian monarchical period was pretty volatile," Han said, blithely conversational.

Leia managed to say, "There's a difference between rule and power." This crate held fifty pair snow boots. She had already checked in two others like it. 

"I suppose." Han had lost interest. "What do you do for this outfit anyway?" 

She could answer this; it was permitted. Even Alderaan would approve. If she couldn't, it was because she didn't quite know yet herself. "My role is about to change substantially."

Han snorted. "That goes unsaid." He saw through her deliberate vagueness. "Soon as they give you one, right? You do that thing Luke was talking about? You don't get a duty 'til you're cleared?"

Leia frowned. Luke apparently was talkative. "The CBA. I haven't yet. It's for a return to duty. I've only just enlisted. General Dodonna indicated he just thought it would be helpful, but he didn't say it was mandatory."

Han's eyes were knowing. "It is if they gave it to you. That's how the military works in my experience. They got no flexibility."

Leia gestured for a crate to be opened. "We'll see," she said. The stack of boots was the same height as in the other crates, so she considered it counted. The repulsor cart moved past her. 

Han was reading the inventory screen of his own crate. "Gloves, glove liners, snow goggles." He pretended to shudder. "Somplace cold. Don't envy those guys." He waved the cart by. "We didn't have those, when I was in."

Leia looked at him. "Gloves?" she said. 

He was looking at her still, and she held his gaze in response. Two conversations were going on. One from his mouth, the second from his eyes. "The Cb thing."

"In the Imperial Navy?" Despite herself, she was interested. She valued the health of the troops; she did, she would insist to... to anyone, even this outlaw freighter captain who was looking at her skeptically. She couldn't explain why she hadn't gotten hers done yet. She was... pulled, in a way, in two directions, making her stand still. A part of her was reluctant and another dismissed it. She was either a quivering, tiny being or she was above it all.

Yet this issue was something her father made sure was addressed by the Alliance. He had been affected by the Clone Wars, she knew. He had told her about the Clone troops, about their unexpected emotionality, and he never forgot what he saw at the Jedi Temple when the Order came under attack. That's why she had told Luke General Kenobi must have been heartbroken, hiding all those years on Tatooine. It was what her father had said. 

"Why not, do you suppose?" she asked. 

Han shrugged. "The Moffs and Admirals called us 'disposable assets.' Know what we called them?"

Leia smiled slightly, anticipating his answer. "What," she said. 

"They came and went as much as us. Pissed Vader off, or the Emperor, and we never saw 'em again. We called 'em Disposable Asses."

"Clever bunch of pilots," Leia was amused. "Do you think there'd have been a beneficial need for something like TRAD?"

"If they make you go, then it's not a weakness," he said. "Duty." He walked over to a cart, his stride loose and limber.

It wasn't an answer to her question. He was talking about something completely different. The individual, not the all. Had he not understood her?  "I didn't say I thought it was a weakness," she said. "At all. That's not what I was talking about. I was saying when you were in, if-"

"Sure you were," Han interrupted. "Beneficial need. If you won't ask for help, can't ask, don't know to ask, well, that's why the agency exists."

Leia frowned. The conversation still seemed sideways. Was he talking about himself? Someone he knew? 

A cart pulled up in front of her and the driver waited expectantly, used to Leia's thoroughness. She stared unseeing, still trying to work it out. And just who was this 'you', she wondered. With his informal style of speech, it wasn't clear. An unnamed individual? It could be anybody. Even her. Her eyes lifted to him with dawning realization.

It  _was_ her. Of all the- his eyes, looking at her like that, and getting her to say that about TRAD, and all the time he'd bugged her about the medscan, and Luke,  _Luke!_ talking to him about the CBA. That time at breakfast when they were talking...

She crossed her arms and put her weight on one hip. "When do you see Luke?" she said frostily. The cart driver looked between her and Han. Then he shrugged and put the cart in gear. It lurched forward toward Han. 

Han hadn't expected her to cut right to the chase, and she savored her triumph. "Probably before he leaves. I'll bump into him somewhere. I'm told I've got drops at four of the bases." He located the crate number, opened his inventory board and started to check it against the screen. Then he grinned slyly. "But I've got his comm."

"Very good, Captain," she said crisply. "From now on you two oafs can talk _to_ me, not about me. Is that clear?"

Leia stomped off, feeling like she'd won and lost at the same time, knowing she was going to get the CBA done, angry with them, angry with herself, angry at whoever would do it, angry with the whole damn Alliance. 

"Can I at least tell him that, Your Worship?" Han shouted at her back, fun in his voice, but she didn't turn around. 


	13. Observations, V

Observations, V

  
Dr. Renzatl was familiar with Princess Leia Organa; everyone was. Galaxy-wide there was a queer fascination with royalty, and the Princess of Alderaan was even more noteworthy because she had been elected to the Imperial Senate at such a young age.

Their paths hadn't crossed earlier. She'd glimpsed the Princess upon her landing, urgent and tense, then again just before the Medal ceremony, regal and radiant.

The woman before her now struck her as small. And young.

She still wore the stained gown in which she had arrived, which was a surprise. Her enlistment forms were stowed with the rest of  the contents of Dr. Renzatl's office, now aboard a transport; a uniform should have been distributed to her. Luke Skywalker wore one, she recalled.

It didn't seem prudent to make the Princess wait for a formal appointment to administer the CBA. The Princess was composed, her facial features carefully arranged like a mask, but underneath Dr. Renzatl sensed flurries of desperate thought.

"The evacuation is moving faster than I am," the Princess had offered in explanation when Dr. Renzatl commented on the timing of their meeting. There was less than an hour before the doctor would board her transport. The Princess probably thought she was not revealing anything by her statement; indeed, she struck the doctor as careful and deliberate.

But Dr. Renzatl thought it was probably the slowest evacuation in military history.

Transcript, Patient 20326

Princess Leia was not enthused about the assessment process, but she accepted its terms within the protocol of service. I would qualify her as resistant, a not uncommon attitude toward the beginning of therapy, especially when it is not initiated by oneself. I appreciated that she did not attempt to pull rank on me by asking General Dodonna to release her from it based on who she was, though I believe the thought did cross her mind.

She also volunteered a previous personal history with loss as evidence that she has the experience to cope and no need for TRAD. Transcript follows.

Princess Leia: My mother was Queen Breha. And when I was twelve, she died, of an illness. And the planet lost its queen.

Dr. Renzatl: And the Princess lost her mother. It must have been difficult, sharing your mother with the planet.

Princess Leia: It was... meaningful. I say that now, though then I thought my heart would break. 

Dr. Renzatl: How did Alderaan mourn her queen?

Princess Leia: The people left cards and flowers at the gate. At night, houses were lit by candles. For a month. And one burns the whole time. My father took care of ours. A maiden would normally be tasked with that, but he did that, for my mother. I would watch him gather the wax to rebuild the candle, and he would tell me stories of her. 

I remember my mother, my life with her. I remember her passing. I can think of the two with the same love. It's part of life.

Transcript ends.

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

The death of Princess Leia's mother was a powerful formative moment in a young life, as any death should be for a child. She has assimilated that loss successfully.

Her understanding of life and it's biological nature reminded me of how Luke Skywalker described it in terms of the Force, and for a twelve year old, that is remarkably mature. However, Princess Leia had many coping tools to help her overcome her loss. She had her father, whose love of family extended from his dead wife to his young daughter. There are the maidens, who obviously loved and respected their queen. There was the entire populace of Alderaan, who were not afraid to express their grief.

They are all gone now, and all at once. The Princess is floundering to find new ways to cope. Where once grief was shared and expressed, she is silenced and forced to internalize it.

Our first conversation was informal, or at least the setting was. I explained what a CBA was and how the department worked. She asked many questions, and even expressed a curiosity about the acknowledgement of trauma recovery in the military and its historical application. We discussed the dissolution of TRAD units in the Republic Army after the Clone Wars began.

Most whom we see have little interest in TRAD. Our work is often one-sided. Clients are self-absorbed or hostile. Too, therapists discourage the exchanging of personal details. I have to admit I enjoyed talking about the origin of TRAD with the Princess.

Because of her personal hesitancy, I undertook to outline- and prepare her for future sessions- what I identify as situations where she might have experienced trauma. 1) Her imprisonment and interrogation aboard the Death Star. 2) The personal grief caused by the brutal murder, through the destruction of her home planet Alderaan, of family and friends. 3) The same destruction as it relates to her being the Princess of Alderaan.

Princess Leia did not report any behavioral aspects such as sleeplessness, loss of appetite, inability to concentrate, etc. She did not wish to talk about any of the above mentioned traumas, but did bring up an issue she didn't mind discussing, namely her rescue, as it was "significant." When I asked why she would include her rescue among her losses, she looked taken aback. "That's true," she said. Then she stated "it wasn't supposed to happen." Transcript follows.

Dr. Renzatl: What do you mean, not supposed to happen?

Princess Leia: Before I was arrested, I had sent the Death Star plans, downloaded into a droid, to Tatooine to find someone who could finish the mission for me and bring the plans to Alderaan.

Dr. Renzatl: And you would have...

Princess Leia: I was braced for execution.

Dr. Renzatl: How did you react when you learned of the rescue attempt?

Princess Leia: I suppose... I was confused.

Dr. Renzatl: What confused you?

Princess Leia: I couldn't understand what General Kenobi was doing, what was going through his mind. The mission was paramount. Paramount. And my purpose was served. So, to waste time on a rescue...

Dr. Renzatl: You thought it was unnecessary?

Princess Leia: Something like that.

Dr. Renzatl: When you say your purpose was served, did you believe there was nothing else you could offer the Alliance in the future? 

Princess Leia: (frowning) I- I'm not sure. I meant the mission.

Dr. Renzatl: Perhaps the General felt you could still be a part of the mission. Perhaps he merely did not want to see you die at the hands of the Empire. Would that be so wrong?

Princess Leia: I think I must have been in... in shock. Don't you? Alderaan had been- they had already used the Death Star. I was in my cell, and I had failed. That was all I knew. And then, when Luke came in, Luke Skywalker, I believe you know him? (Dr. Renzatl nods)- If you had seen him when he came in my cell-

Dr. Renzatl: What was he like?

Princess Leia (smiling slightly): He was completely out of his element. I thought I might be hallucinating. He came in, all... earnest and warm. His disguise didn't fit well. It was so at odds to everything I had known on the Death Star. He mentioned that he was there with the same droid I had dispatched, and with the General to whom I had appealed for help.

Dr. Renzatl: I see.

Princess Leia: I was confused because it was totally illogical for them to be there. It seemed out of character for General Kenobi. That he would bring the droid and the plans back from where they were stolen, aboard the Death Star, and endeavor to rescue me, who no longer...

I didn't think, at the time, about how- That possibly they weren't able to reach Alderaan. 

Dr. Renzatl: Because of the Death Star.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: So it's possible they were on brought on board the same as you, as prisoners.

Princess Leia: Only the ship was captured. They managed to evade actual custody. I didn't know any of this, of course. Things moved fast once Luke came in. It seemed we were always running. We didn't have time to talk.

Dr. Renzatl: That's what you mean, about not supposed to happen. They were also on the Death Star, but not for your rescue. For their own possible interrogation and execution.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: Does it still confuse you?

Princess Leia: Well, in hindsight, no. Now that I know what happened. But it surprises me still.

Dr. Renzatl: How?

Princess Leia: That we succeeded. That... two men and a Wookiee ... (long silence)

Dr. Renzatl: Princess Leia?

Princess Leia: Do you know all I'm bringing on the transport? My Death Star dress. (She lifts a fold of fabric over her thigh and lets it drop). I came away with two men, a Wookiee, and a dress. The droids belong to Luke now.

Dr. Renzatl: I heard about the General's death.

Princess Leia: Yes. Did Luke tell you? Yes, he took it hard. 

Dr. Renzatl: And you came away with two men and a Wookiee. The plans, too. Your mission was back on track.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: That must have been gratifying.

Princess Leia: Yes. Before, it was a mission. Then it was all that mattered.

Dr. Renzatl: And Luke Skywalker was out of his element. Were the others?

Princess Leia: In a way. Luke (smiles slightly again) adapted quickly. They weren't with the Rebellion, none of them. Not even General Kenobi. So in that respect, they were out of... place. But- I would say that running for their lives was not a new experience for the other two.

Dr. Renzatl: Interesting. Tell me about them.

Princess Leia: I can't, except we were all running for our lives. It was a shared situation. We all had the same goal.

Dr. Renzatl: How were you? Were you able to run? Alderaan was already destroyed, and you had already undergone interrogation. I imagine you may have had difficulties functioning. You were probably injured, needed their help.

Princess Leia: No. 

Dr. Renzatl: (after a silence) You mentioned a shared situation, and the same goal. It sounds as if the four of you- the Wookiee, and the two men and yourself- had to rely on each other. That you all formed a team.

Princess Leia: (nodding) We wanted to get out of there. (Turns thoughtful) I don't know much about the Wookiee. His name is Chewbacca. Captain Solo calls him Chewie. I don't know what he is to Captain Solo. Copilot, at the least. He seems protective of the captain. But also, he sounds mouthy.

Dr. Renzatl: Mouthy?

Princess Leia: Yes. I don't understand his language. He wasn't very comfortable on the Death Star. That was evident. But, he might offer a different viewpoint than what the captain wants to hear. When you mention a team ... Chewie likes me and Luke. That I can tell.

Dr. Renzatl: And the men? Do you still feel that teamwork, as if a sense of belonging developed because of this shared experience, what you all had been through together?

Princess Leia: You say belonging... Luke is the younger. Shorter. Blonder. He's sweet, and innocent. Han-

Dr. Renzatl: (unable to resist) Older? Taller?

Princess Leia: (smiling). Darker. (stops speaking)

Dr. Renzatl: Yes?

Princess Leia: I don't belong to them.

Dr. Renzatl: (after a long silence) At the risk of betraying a confidence, Luke holds you in very high regard.

Princess Leia: Luke as much as told me. He felt protective of me. He thought I was vulnerable.

Dr. Renzatl: I can see that irritates you.

Princess Leia: It does. He was- not more vulnerable, but less capable than I was. The Death Star- (presses her lips together). I had a purpose there.

Dr. Renzatl: You were ready to die.

Princess Leia: If it came to that. But not Luke. He and Han flew too close to it; they got sucked in on the tractor beam.

Dr. Renzatl: They blundered upon it.

Princess Leia: Exactly! And for him to think I'm like some little sister that needs watching over...

Dr. Renzatl: Is the other, Han, vulnerable too?

Princess Leia: It would kill him if he had to admit it.

Dr. Renzatl: So he's tough, like you.

Princess Leia: Yes, like me. I can just hear him. Your Worship, Your Heightness, Princess Organizer. If there's anyone else out there thinking I'm vulnerable-

Dr. Renzatl: He makes fun of you?

Leia: He's not really making fun of me-

Dr. Renzatl: He's mocking your title. Isn't- wasn't that punishable by fine on Alderaan?

Princess Leia: (involuntarily smiles). He's letting me know he doesn't see me as vulnerable.

Dr. Renzatl: Did the Death Star see you as vulnerable?

Princess Leia: (pales). No. Not in the least. I was very capable. I did not break under interrogation.

Dr. Renzatl: How did that make you feel?

Princess Leia: Strong. I knew I was the right person to be there. I felt strong.

Dr. Renzatl: Even when the men and Wookiee came?

Princess Leia: Yes. They were trapped, cornered, and it was me that found a way out for us.

Dr. Renzatl: Does the Alliance view you as capable, or vulnerable?

Princess Leia: I would hope capable.

Dr. Renzatl: But you don't know?

Princess Leia: I don't... (bites her lip). ...I recognize myself on the Death Star, when I think about it. Here, I just... flit about, like a butterfly. But it's because I have no duty yet; I haven't been productive. I'm not used that that.

Dr. Renzatl: Even though you have not been given a duty yet, how do you see yourself as being the most productive to the Alliance?

Princess Leia: Ending the Empire. When the time comes, and we have victory, I hope that they let me push the button that ends it all.

Dr. Renzatl: Is that how war ends? With a push of a button?

Princess Leia: That's... that's how they did it on the Death Star. 

Transcript ends.

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Princess Leia is intelligent and thoughtful. Her grasp of self-awareness has been compromised due to the events of her trauma, but I was heartened that our discussion helped her see the defensive barriers she has erected, and that there were moments when she began to peel them carefully back.

Until her internment aboard the Death Star, Princess Leia was- justifiably- a person of great strength and purpose. She saw things in black and white. She is smart enough to know gray exists in between, but it is the decisions one makes, and the subsequent actions that follow, that shade the gray either to black or white.

The Death Star still exists for her, separate from the concept of the Empire. Not as a terrible place of horrific experiences, but as a kind of statement of identity. She needs the Death Star because it affirms what she thought of herself. Complicating matters considerably is the responsibility the Death Star bears to Alderaan. She puts up very strong defensive barriers when she suspects her own psychological bond with the weapon that destroyed her homeworld and killed her family.

Her interpersonal relationships with the two men who assisted in her rescue are also reflected in her perceived roles on the Death Star and here in the Alliance. Luke Skywalker needed her help on the Death Star but he is now the darling of the Alliance. She views him as kind and sympathetic, but is irritated when he shows concern for her, as that of a brother, or equal, which to her is questioning her strength and intelligence.

In contrast, where she should get mixed messages from Han Solo, she doesn't. He resented her strength and ability on the Death Star, perhaps because it undermined his own. His continued abuses of her title are, to her, proof that his assessment has not changed, and this reinforces her own perceptions of herself.

We talked as long as time would allow. We both had to make our transport, and she asked to be allowed enough time to say goodbye to Mr. Skywalker, Captain Solo, and the Wookiee Chewbacca. They are already an integral part of her support structure so I made sure she could do that.

I will make a note that she be allowed to continue to wear what she calls her Death Star dress and not an Alliance uniform.

As we parted, I couldn't help but think back to the conversation I had with Luke Skywalker. Their similar view that death is part of life was striking. I had also asked both how they envision their roles in the Alliance. Mr. Skywalker had alluded to the deaths of his loved ones as leaving him a job. Princess Leia's assertion was that her only job was to help bring about the end of the Empire. It struck me that Mr. Skywalker's vision arose from the ashes of love, and that Princess Leia's hope is grown out of hate.


	14. Resistance, II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onward to the evacuation....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday! Here's one for you to chew on today, and tomorrow will come a shorter one.   
> I'd love to hear from you dear readers! Please leave a comment.

Leia watched Luke stroll through the hangar. He had changed into a pilot's uniform. The orange of the flight suits sometimes blurred one man from the other, but she supposed Luke's suit was newer, so it was brighter. She wondered if he had packed his desert clothing.

It was so odd, seeing him in orange. She glanced quickly at Captain Solo, who was pacing in front of the ramp of his ship. He seemed to have his own kind of uniform, for he was dressed largely the same as the first time she met him. The black spacer's vest was familiar, and Leia rubbed the sleeves of her Death Star gown briskly with her hands.

One of the transports had already left and the place seemed so much emptier. For the first time, Leia thought she understood how large the population of the ancient settlers must have been. Had they died off, little by little, or left? How sad, she reflected, to be among the last.

Luke wasn't walking rapidly, and he kept his eyes on the Falcon, his helmet tucked under his arm. He was coming to make his goodbyes. And his body language told her he was reluctant. No jumping and shouting this time, no wild grins. A lot had changed in the past week for both him and for Leia, but they had become a constant to each other. It was hard to leave what little they had gained.

It was true, what Dr. Renzatl had said about the four of them, that, in a way, they belonged together. But- Leia shook an annoyed thought away and watched Han stop his pacing and slowly amble in Luke's direction- maybe it was her fault. Wasn't it she who said _we have no time for sorrows._

"They trust you to be able to find the new base in that thing, huh?" Han said, jerking a thumb towards the X-Wings when Luke was in earshot. He was almost teasing; Leia got only a sense of what he was intending.

Certainly not about Luke's piloting ability. "If he can blow up a battle station, then I'm sure he can fly the X-Wing to the new location," Leia said.

"I don't know," Luke grinned. "I used a targeting computer for that."

Leia wasn't having any false modesty. She did not smile. "You shut it off, remember?"

"After I knew what I was looking at," Luke joked. "I might have to stick my head out the cockpit, shout out "anyone see the Rebellion?"

"That's what nav'puters are for," Leia reminded him, still unsmiling.

Luke gave it up. "R2 will be along, too," he said. "So I'll have company."

"If you call that company," Han snorted.

"I do," Luke stated simply. "C-3PO is on the next transport- is that yours?" he asked Leia.

She shook her head. "No. That one's carrying non-sentients. I'm one of the last."

"I'm _the_ last," Han stated. He glanced at his chrono. "One hour fifteen and this place will be empty. That's what Dodonna's paying me for, to be clean up duty. If I rustle up the Empire and they nail me, he'll save a few credits."

"That's why the non-essentials are going first, to test the proverbial waters," Leia said, lifting her sleeve to note the hour on her own chrono. "If the Empire has already gathered out past orbit, he'd rather use tools as bait than soldiers."

"Sure, or all that activity could catch their attention and the last one is when they arrive," Han said dryly. "I'd send sentients off first thing is what I'd do."

"Which is why he's general and you're not," Luke shot back. "How far did you make it with the Empire?"

"Not too far. Lieutenant. It seemed like my next raise would be the rank of dead, so I quit while I was ahead." Han reached out and rubbed at a dark stain on the landing thruster. "Not like I'd ever make Moff," he said, still cynical. "The whole system is bull shit. Palpatine isn't too fond of Corellians."

"It goes deeper than that," Leia said. "He ordered the bombing after the tribute refusal. Didn't the Corellian Senator disappear?"

Han seemed to not care. He shrugged. "I don't know."

"A Moff represented Corellia in the Imperial Senate when I was there," Leia added. "He was appointed. Not elected."

"'Course he was. Moffs eat out of the Emperor's hand. That's how he controls the planet. Corellians aren't too fond of the Emperor, for that matter."

"There are a lot here, I noticed that," Luke said. "Wedge is Corellian. And speaking of him, I better get going. I wanted to say safe skies, and... I'll see you. Right? Hopefully. Is it true we're going different places?"

"It's possible," Leia said. "Coordinates are sent once a ship is out of orbit, so the pilots don't even know.  We're breaking off into tiny segments on remote systems. If the Empire manages to find one, we'll still be active elsewhere."

"Declare war and then hide," Han summarized. "Ever play that game when you were a kid? Throw a rock through a window and run away?"

Luke looked doubtful. "That's a game?"

"It's vandalism," Leia said. She eyed Han darkly. "Once again, I'm surprised you made it to adulthood."

"I did, though. Got good aim, too."

"I suppose you spent your childhood jailed."

"Nope," Han was grinning. "I'm also fast."

"Well, " Luke interrupted, "I'll be deployed soon. That's what Wedge is doing while he's grounded. Building up a new squadron, and then we'll probably be sent to patrol a world that seceded. Protect it from retribution from the Empire."

"Gods," Leia said. "You'll have the stress of battle all the time."

"It's patrol," Luke repeated. "The world systems have their own standing navy. From what I understood in Dodonna's briefing, we're to stay just out of system, monitoring."

"Til someone throws a rock," Han said.

"The systems that have something the Empire can lose," Leia clarified. "Economics is a strong factor where they decide to attack. They'll leave the world alone that exports natural resources. One they can enslave, like Kasshyyk..." she trailed off, and looked thoughtfully at Chewbacca, who was double-checking that hatches were sealed before liftoff. Wookiees hailed from Kasshyyk, and she wondered how such a fierce and friendly being wound up a partner of a smuggler instead of an Imperial slave. "That's when the rocks get thrown."

"So," Luke said. He moved awkwardly, the helmet tucked under one arm allowing only the other to circle upward, a one-armed embrace. "Bye, Leia. I got your comm."

She returned his hug, smiling against his neck at the promise of a call. "Please be careful."

"Bye Han." Luke was going to offer just a hand, but he changed his mind as Han lifted his and gave him the same hug.

"See ya, kid."

"Stay away from the Hutt." Luke turned to leave.

"You know I will."

"I know." Luke called over his shoulder with a sad smile.

"I better get ready, too," Leia said quickly as Luke ventured over to bid farewell to Chewie. 

Han called loudly after her, causing a tech to turn around and glance between the two, "You got nothing to pack!" But Leia's steps were hasty.

She waited in John Branon's room. It was empty, just a stone chamber. They should know how to look, all of them, but Luke had departed and Han was busy with preflight, and maybe the others weren't looking very hard. Her comm dinged twice, but no voices came down the hallway.

Did that mean something? she wondered. Was she right? Was she scheduled for Dodonna's transport? Had he been informed? She kept checking her chrono. When the rumbling in the sky quieted she swallowed bracingly and went back to the hangar.

The ramp was up. She moved to in front of the _Falcon's_ mandibles where she would be seen and waited calmly with her hands folded in front of her.

The ramp began to open, and soon Chewbacca was following it's slow descent, his body gradually unfolding until he could stand straight. He growled something at her, and Leia imagined he said, "Princess?" or "What are you doing out here?" or simply, "We've been waiting for you."

"I missed my transport," she said as regally as she could. "May I join your flight?"

Chewbacca scanned the whole hangar, sniffing, but then he gestured with his head and she followed him into the cockpit. He said something to Han.

"She did, huh?" Han said without turning around.

Chewbacca answered him. Leia listened closely, but she was unable to even make out breaks in sounds indicating a word.

Han acted like Leia wasn't even in the cockpit. "You may be right about that, pal."

Leia dropped into the navigator seat, listening with a frown as Chewie said something else. A question apparently, for Han answered, "I don't know. Got a suggestion?"

Chewie responded with four staccato hoots.

"Guess we'll take the stink for it, then," Han said.

Leia grew tired staring at the back of Han's head. "That's rude," she said. "Talking in front of me like that."

"What makes you think we're talking 'bout you?" Han said innocently.

"You said she."

Han swept his arm about the cockpit. "I call the _Falcon_ a lady, too."

Leia fumed, reviewing the one-sided conversation in her head to catch Han, but it had been too vague.

Han turned in his seat to look at her. "What are you doing, Princess?" he said with a sigh.

"Flying with you," she said in a clipped voice. "I have no other choice."

Han turned back to the console. "Guess not," he said. "Get cold feet?"

Leia's brows knit. "For what?" she scorned.

"Seein' Vader again."

The answer was completely unexpected. "Of course not," she said. "I fell asleep." She snapped the safety belt across her lap. 

Han's head moved in a slow, sarcastic nod. "Sure you did." The ship began to move, ascending at a steep incline, and Leia watched the tree line fall away until it was just a band of green below them.

Chewie and Han worked together, tossing one word to each other signifying the task each was doing. There was no sign of the Empire.

"Everyone is away safe, then," Leia said softly, and no one answered her.

"They send those coordinates?" Han said after a time, and Chewie growled.

Han stood at the nav'puter, and Leia had to turn her knees to the side to make room for him. "We'll see where these take us," he said.

Leia put out her hand. "Wait," she said.

Han glanced down at her fingers curled around his wrist. "Wait for what?"

"For... I have a procurement."

"Look," Han put a hand on the back of his neck. "What I said, about nothing to pack, I was just stating a fact, all right?"

"Are you apologizing, Captain?"

 "Maybe."

Leia let him know there were no hard feelings by closing her eyes and huffing out her nose; she had barely noticed the jibe. "I need to go to Dantooine."

"Dantooine? What the hells is on Dantooine?"

"I told you. I need a supply. It's not exactly a military item. Dantooine is close and the Empire is done with it."

"What do you need?" 

She warded him off with a shake of her head.

"That's why you bailed on your transport?" Han wanted to know.

"I'm sorry it will make you late."

"No you're not. Chewie, ease up while I pull the coords for Dantooine."

Leia observed while Han grumbled unhappily, but he reset the nav'puter with new coordinates.

"How long?" Leia said.

"Far enough," Han grumbled. "Nine hours in hyper. And there I was, Highness, thinkin' I should be flattered."

"Flattered, Captain?"

"Yeah. You put some effort into making sure you saw me again."

Leia rolled her eyes. "That's not it at all."

"No? You got a better reason?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" He waited a heartbeat. "But you're not sayin'. All right," Han said, leaning against the nav'puter and crossing his arms. "I'll play."

"No, you won't play!" Leia erupted. She wanted to jump out of her seat but the restraints held her down "It's not a game. It's never a game, do you understand? You don't throw and hide! Not me, not my window-" She heard herself like from outside her body; words just popped out, like truths she didn't know she possessed. "-so just fly in your ship and leave, and-"

Abruptly, she stopped. Muscles in her chin started jumping, ones she discovered she had while under the pain of interrogation, but damned if she was going to let some smuggler, some...man.... not when she had refuted Darth Vader... and what did he mean, _cold feet?_

Chest heaving, she directed her eyes to the view out the cockpit.

"Can't." Han's voice was unnaturally quiet, in tune with the soft rustle of his clothing as he resumed his seat and strapped in. "Got you on board." Louder, he spoke again. "Punch it, Chewie."

Chewie's answering roar sounded definite, and Leia thought he might have said, "We're with you, Princess," or, "hurrah, destination Dantooine," or "Han, stop being an idiot."

 

 


	15. Loss, I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are relying on a steady Friday posting, don't miss Chapter 14, which posted yesterday, as a Bonus Thursday installment.   
> Thank you for reading!

 

They are leaving Yavin IV. Out and up, and it's obvious from the air where the suck sand is.

And it feels like a part of Leia is down there, too, never to be recovered. Her hopes for her father. Her memories of Alderaan. There's no proof of it. Just the witnessing. _Is it true?_ the refugees will ask.

And she will have to answer, _Yes_.

She doesn't know what else she can tell them. _Yes, we are all phantoms._

In front of her are Chewie and Han, and quite possibly this would be just another liftoff for them, except she heard Captain Solo mutter in Corellian to his partner, "how am I letting a penniless princess hijack my ship?"

The translation was her own. Leia knew some Corellian, basically travel phrases. She understood 'money-less' and 'royal'. The word was 'take' rather than 'hijack' but that was the beauty of Corellian: it was poetic through mood and context. His complaint tickled her, and she was very curious about the Wookiee's response, for the tone was possibly teasing. She didn't want to reveal that she could comprehend a bit of Corellian, in case Han was in the habit of using his native tongue, so resisted asking.

Their solid presence, even the grumbling, was solace. She was asking a great deal from them, of the Alliance too, but she had decided she needed a recovery day. It can't be because of her talk with Dr. Renzatl, but Leia has noticed a shift in herself. The numbness is wearing off. Yavin IV must have been a holding stage, and now that she is miles above it, things are a bit more clear. She wants to scold General Dodonna for not ensuring she was given a medscan. She would like to remind Darth Vader of his failure- _his_. She would like to show Governor Tarkin just how trusting she is. And she wants Mon Mothma to know she won't just take over Bail's work; it is her work. She wants to tap into this impatience and anger and put it to good use.

Because she knows Alderaan is gone forever. Bubbling out her is a spring of- not memory, but emotions. It is the doctor's fault, Leia thinks. Not the physical memory of sensation, of touch or smell, but how something made her feel. The doctor taught her how to connect place and time and make the memory a feeling. In a way, it is helpful. Alderaan won't let her remember climbing a tree when she was young unless the feeling of the rough bark under her fingers reduces her to a rubble of guilt and shame. _There's no more tree,_ she must tell whoever gets her memory. _I killed the tree. There is no more friend I am clambering after, no more friend chasing me._ Instead, there is validation of Leia Organa. _I was adventurous. Competitive._

Leia hadn't wanted to remember with the doctor. If she didn't allow it for herself how could she be expected to with Dr. Renzatl? Alderaan didn't want her to. So they talked about recent memories. They talked about the Death Star, starting from the moment Luke entered her cell. Leia is homeless by then, and Alderaan cannot care. But those memories, like Luke removing his helmet, which no stormtrooper would ever do, or standing on the bridge of the Death Star watching the laser, are like holovision. She can report them, but she cannot feel them.

It's no longer clear what she is, who she is. The Princess, the woman. If, indeed, she is either of those. There are glimmers: irritation when Luke apologizes, sly appreciation when Han doesn't. Pride is missing, and contentment disappeared too.

It must have been the rapid movement of the ship over the trees. At first the branches moved and the leaves blew in response to the Falcon's engines, and then individual features seamed together until it was a blur of green and she was looking down upon it. As Yavin IV fell away, she found her thoughts turned to Deso Beach, a place not even on Alderaan. Maybe that's why she could think it.

Deso Beach. The Falcon rose through the white clouded atmosphere, and Leia wondered what kind of connection she was supposed to make. The shells? Because they were like the leaves: individual pieces that made up a whole.

It was a working vacation, she remembered, and they went to the beach. But the weather was- her mother made a funny comment, about how they forgot to put in an order for the weather- the Desoii were shocked at how cold, windy and wet the weather treated the royal family of Alderaan. The beach was deserted. Because of the weather but also, Leia suspected, it was closed because a Princess was scheduled to take a swim.

She was a child. About the age of seven? The year isn't clear, but Leia didn't usually think in terms of age but in times of when her mother was feeling good. Despite the cold and the wind, the family still went to the beach because it had been scheduled. Silly, Leia thought now, the rigidity of schedules. Little Leia had taken off her shoes and hitched up her beach pants.

She loved the beach pants. It was a Desoii beach fashion. Loose fitting, snug at the ankles, soft and ironically not water resistant. She continued to wear them on Alderaan when they got back because they were so much better than the sleep gowns the maidens set-

Leia returned to her memory. Her feet were bare, on a shore. Water rushed over them. It was cold, and it made her take in her breath a little at the shock. The water bubbled and swirled. Small pieces of shell, smoothed by the action of water over time, raked over her toes.

When the water receded the sand sparkled in the scattered sunlight. She could wiggle her toes, feeling light.

Once in a while it rushed in hard and fast; swirling, tiny eddies; sand scraped and covered her feet, and then it left astoundingly fast. She was rooted to the spot but dizzy with the feeling of speed, of being whisked away beyond her control.

She twisted around, and her parents were higher on the beach, sitting on dry sand, which was covered in a light layer of weathered shards, and they waved at her, smiling.

Even then, she had a feeling that moment on Deso Beach was important, but she never could grasp its meaning.

The ship shuddered a bit, and a noise chimed. Leia looked down at her feet, covered in practical shoes.

"You always do that too early," Captain Solo groused at his copilot.

Chewie tittered.

"Well, cut it. I had to replace it last year, remember? You're causing too much wear." The captain looked quickly once over his shoulder at Leia, as if he expected her to say something about the condition of his ship or the quality of the flight.

She didn't participate, still lightyears away but now adding a man and a Wookiee to the beach. Had they ever been? Oh, sure; they had a ship and traveled all the time. But had they _been_ , like on vacation, with family?

Why was she remembering Deso Beach? Why did Han remember throwing rocks?

 _Rocks can cause damage,_ Dr. Renzatl would point out to Captain Solo, and Leia smiled to herself, thinking of his response.

 _Why did you turn to look at your parents?_ Dr. Renzatl might ask Leia.

Why did I? Leia mused now. Children liked to know their parents were watching. But Leia had been checking on them, to make sure they were still there.

And they would never leave her, not without telling her. Because they loved her and wanted her with them. So why would she need to check?

Because while she was down the shore, standing in water noisy and rushing, capable of carrying her away, and her parents were high on the dune, dry and safe, Leia had a feeling of fate. Deso Beach had tried to tell her. She should have run up the dune, squealing to her parents about how cold the water was, and kneel on the sand, sifting through the shells with her mother and father. Instead, she had turned back to the water, and waded in a little deeper.


	16. Restlessness

She passed the hours in hyperspace walking the circular layout of the  _Millennium Falcon._ Round and round she walked, until she had memorized each idiosyncrasy of the ship's interior: the panel that didn't shut completely, the scorch scar of a one-time electrical fire out of another, the faded handwriting on the wall that denoted something important,  _red_ , about the selection of wires.

She wasn't good company but neither Chewie nor Han complained. She didn't talk to them much. If Han fixed himself a drink he made one for her too and waited for her to pass by, or he might tell her, "grub's on the game table." Chewie sometimes waved and said something, holding up a furry finger. These were her first lessons in Shyriiwook, how to count. She would stop and ask for the number to be repeated, and try hard to pronounce it herself, making the Wookiee laugh.

Sometimes she veered off the path. She could visit the crew quarters; let her dress toss about in the auto valet while she showered and waited for it, wrapped in a towel on a bunk. She could even nap, or sit and watch. There was a lift: "don't go in there," Captain Solo had warned, and the gun turrets. She liked those. The upper one or lower, it didn't matter. They were twins, or mirror images of each other.

The gunner was vulnerable, the dome of unshielded duroglass jutting out past the relatively flat surface of the ship's outer hulls. But the view was... practice, Leia thought. When they came out of hyper and cruised a short while on sublights toward Dantooine's orbit, the amount of silver stars took her breath away, and nearby planets or suns hung suspended like marbles. She could look out and think, _there's_ _no Alderaan,_ because they weren't in that sector of space, but someday she would be. 

She fingered the trigger sticks, lined up a feature of space in  the targeting grid. Luke had grown confident in here, bragging to a pilot that shooting Tie fighters was like shooting some creature on Tatooine. But it couldn't be that easy, she mused, spinning in the chair. Maybe he had exhibited his power with the Force before he knew he had it. And Han played the gun turret like a game of billiards. His shots created damage that didn't finish a fighter off; during the battle over Yavin he used the trenches, disabling a fighter enough that the narrow passes of the Death Star and the pilot's panic were his own undoing.

Darth Vader had not panicked, Leia thought, which was too bad. He was also lucky. Lucky to decide to chase after the X-Wings on his own and not be on the Death Star when Luke made the shot. It was curious, why fate decided to spare him. And her. It was more than curious; it was ironic. Painful. Difficult.

While she paced, she thought about General Kenobi, whose presence she could not detect anywhere, and Luke, who had left his desert poncho aboard.

They were all together, in flight, the moment Leia stood on the bridge of the Death Star and watched Alderaan crumble. General Kenobi felt it, she remembered Luke telling her. He had felt the loss of life. She hadn't. Not like that. "A million voices," Luke had mentioned, before falling into an awkward silence. 

"If ever you need a last resort," Bail had said to her the first time she acted as intel courier, and handed her a scrap of flimsi.

She was supposed to memorize the name and comm coordinates and dispose of the flimsi. "General Obi Wan Kenobi," she read.

Her father put his hand on her arm and whispered like the conspirators they were, "He is a Jedi."

She'd never heard the name. Not in any of her father's stories, not while sitting through a thousand meetings. If, instead of accepting only the name, she had asked. "Who is he, Pati?" A better question might have been, "How did he survive?" for Palpatine's first act as Emperor was to turn on the Jedi.

And she wondered about the Jedi in hiding, who at some point must have revealed himself to her father. How? When? After Bail Organa became a Rebel leader? _Should you ever need me, I'm on Tatooine in the Dune Sea._ Why wouldn't the Rebellion need him as soon as he offered his help? He was a Jedi! And the Rebellion certainly knew how to hide. They could have ensured Kenobi's safety.

Or had it happened earlier- and her mind made a wide, irrational jump, because she happened to be looking at Luke's poncho- were they two young fathers-

 _You too?_ one would say to the other. _The Republic falls and we are safeguarded with infants. What will you do with yours? I shall bring the little girl to Alderaan, for we always wanted a daughter..._

_This little one has family on Tatooine. I will bring him there, and then never leave, and I will mourn his father-_

Not fathers, Leia corrected herself. But- it was ridiculous, this baby boom, a crazy coincidence- two young men- _prominent_ men, a Senator and a Jedi- in possession of babies. Luke, taken in by his aunt and uncle on Tatooine, where a Jedi happened to be hiding Luke's entire life. His father was a Jedi, probably killed on Coruscant at the Temple, or elsewhere during the Purge.

Bail was on Coruscant. He had gone to the Jedi Temple. Leia knew that tale well. Most likely there had been no bundle of baby there. The Jedi were forbidden families. 

"So many questions," Luke had said, and Leia nodded in silent agreement with him now. Why was Luke the son of a Jedi if they were forbidden families? Well, that answer was obvious, but it raised even more questions about the nature of Luke's father. If he shook off his Jedi vows that easily for love, what else would he do?

And where had Bail found _her_? She closed her eyes and tried to recall every conversation, see herself as a tot, asking about herself, but place had never mattered. Not even so much the who; she'd only been interested in the ending because it made her happy. She only wanted to hear from Bail and Breha they had chosen her to love.  _And so you came to be our daughter._

The odd similarities she and Luke shared: Luke, with no mention of his mother, and Leia, whose paternity had even less detail; both of the same age, now in the same place, brought together by the Death Star, which orphaned them again. And poor General Kenobi, emerged from hiding, "relieved", Luke had described him, only to be killed what probably felt like moments later by Darth Vader. She felt pity for him. 

But he also left behind a mystery; his death ripped the lid off a sepulcher, secrets he buried long ago. Now the stench wafted upwards but the grave's contents were empty. And following the pity, like an aftertaste, was a bit of resentment. _What did you know, Obi Wan Kenobi, and why did you not tell anyone? Why did you not do something about it sooner if you could have, and it seems you could have._  Leia wondered about the connection between Obi Wan Kenobi and Bail Organa, a once casual acquaintance a secret made tighter over the years.

Whatever the secret was, Bail Organa had kept it from her. 

And that hurt. Now that he was gone, the secret probably didn't matter anymore, which meant he could have told her. 

The thoughts bothered her. They went round and round, and they never reached a conclusion. She wanted to be only sad and lonely, and she couldn't, because she kept asking _why_.


	17. Repentance, I

Repentance, I

 

Dantooine is lovely. Leia is filled with apology, and asked for forgiveness. 

She wished she could have brought Luke. He had described his part of Tatooine as isolated homesteads, a sea of golden sand. On Dantooine it is the same, only the sea is fields of tall yellow grain, blowing under the will of the wind. 

Most of the farmers here probably didn't know of the Rebel base, and anyway that was long done. They would never know, either, that Leia had named the planet to Tarkin while the beautiful shape of Alderaan loomed from the Death Star bridge.

Forgiveness can come because Dantooine is still here. 

Han, finally, had quieted. His way of trying to figure out what she needed here was to complain, get a rise out of her. "I don't see the point of visiting the old base if the Empire scoped it out."

"The Alliance abandoned it over a year ago. There is nothing there for the Empire or anyone to find. Including me," she told Han.

He pulled up a topographical holo of the planet. "I don't want to hike around all these hills, Your Religion, if we're landing far from where you need to be."

"We won't, Captain. We'll dock in the port city."

Next he researched port city code ordinances once they entered the system, which amused her, and when his eyes narrowed at her she averted her gaze. 

"Prohibited weapons zone," he read off. "How're Chewie and me going to watch for you when you're off playing war games?"

"I'm not playing war games."

"Well, I'm going anyway, and you can't tell me no."

"You may accompany me," she permitted him, and had to smile when he made a face at her imperiousness.

She hadn't quite forgiven him for that remark about Darth Vader, but she had to admit he was consistent. And she didn't view him as disrespectful, as others did. He wasn't careful with her, as others were. He was brazen and bold, the only one, and he did something to her. Made her sharpen her claws, hone her tongue, or put a gleam in her eyes. Funny, how someone deliberately trying to tip her world on its end made her feel alive. 

But Han was the only one who realized her world already  _was_  turned upside down, and this was his method to right her. All the time, she was flailing for balance while everyone else stood by and watched, sympathy and pity on their faces. Well, that was no help. Han wasn't the type to hold out his hand and chivalrously offer to assist, and she wasn't the type to accept. 

They set out, plain as day. She still wore what she came to call her Death Star gown, and he was in his spacer's clothing, black utility vest and trousers, and pale yellow shirt. He looked taller, thinner without the gun holstered low on his thigh. Younger, too probably, and a little more clean-cut. Regularly handsome, she labeled it, thinking the description would both please and irk him.

The day was glorious, even in the low-storied port city. Bright yellow sunlight and the dry warm air crisped the edges of buildings, lending a clarity of vision.

"What were your first thoughts when you learned the Princess of Alderaan was on the Death Star?" she asked him as they walked. 

"Luke said you were rich," he said. 

"That was Luke thinking."

"True." Two steps later he added, "That I flew through the remains of your planet."

She nodded, and decided that no matter what- if he left, if he got killed, if they never talked again- she would always remember that answer as one of the kindest she had ever received. 

The general supply store had some. Not quite to the specifications she preferred- the candles had to burn a standard month- but this was the Outer Rim, and she wouldn't do much better. But there were only nine in the box on the shelf that used to hold twelve. 

" _That's_ what we came for?" Han sputtered in disbelief. "Why didn't you say so? I got one on the  _Falcon._ I think."

She shook her head, teeth on her lip. "How many weren't there at The Time do you think?"

He shrugged exaggeratedly. "Name any figure you could be right."

She switched to a nod. "There's only nine here. I know there's more than nine." Leia was disappointed. In the number, in herself. What was she thinking? That an agricultural outpost like Dantooine would carry thousands of candles?

She didn't want to order them through the Alliance. She wanted to provide them herself. But nine... what was she going to do? Visit every store and buy out their stock of candles?

"You're buyin' 'em for the survivors?"

She nodded again, struggling to speak. "Each family should get one. The flickering light symbolizes the passing of a loved one. And Life, I suppose. It burns continuously for thirty days."

"Wait here." Han put his hand on her arm, and her lips parted, and some kind of joy, or relief or need, coursed through her. "I'll find you more."

She never took orders from anyone, but she waited because he said he was going to find more. She scanned the shelves, and had an imaginary conversation with her father. 

She picked up a roll of twine, and held it before her. "We might need to make our own wicks," she told her father. "To keep the candles burning. These aren't very big."

"You told Dr. Renzatl about the Month of Flame," he remarked. "And now him."

"Captain Solo," Leia said. She picked up a striker, to make the spark. "I can... I can think around him. I feel... I know I'm alive. That's good, isn't it Pati? Isn't that what you would want for me?"

"And you are remembering us," her father said. 

Leia's eyes filled with tears. "Don't say that, Pati. Don't."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	18. Restlessness, II

Leia regarded Han in the captain's seat from behind. It occurred to her how she was often behind him. In the cockpit of course, but otherwise too. When they walked. It was an interesting detail, but she put it aside.

Han's shoulders were broad, his posture straight. It was helpful, to look at him, like his body was a history. Leia felt- she was new, but not in a good way. As if she was the aftermath of something known destroyed. She was the crater. No life inside, just crumbling debris around the rim. Han was still young, but youth was leaving. She only had to wait and soon her own body would map itself out like his. 

Han's body told her how he lived. Rough and hungry, scarred and confident. It was evident in the maturity of his physique. Compared to Luke, anyway, who was fresh, like her, and she blushed a little, comparing the yards of fabric she wore as a senator and Luke as a desert farmer, to the bare minimum with which Han covered his own body.

Leia smoothed the fabric over her thighs, aware her thoughts were straying from disasters and craters to physical appeal. Yet, somehow, deep down, it made sense. It made sense if she saw Han as she and Luke were now, only he was past it. He wasn't as raw; the deep cut on his chin had healed. There was nothing fertile in the smoking ruin of a crater, but eventually, life found purchase. The winds deposited sediment, a bird dropped a seed. 

Han strapped in, and Chewie woofed at him. 

She used his name. "Han." 

He froze, and she had his profile, the twist of his lip. He was looking at Chewie with his brows up. "Did I hear something?" he said.

He was being playful, she recognized, in a good mood because half a gross of candles was a huge accomplishment for her, and hardly anything for him. He had room in the hold, for they were small, and they hadn't cost much. He negotiated from the shop owner for a forty percent discount and paid for them himself. So now Leia owed him, though he didn't say anything about repaying him.

This was the first true debt Leia had acquired in her young life. The reward didn't make her indebted to him and didn't count; Luke was the one who created it and the Alliance made little objection. And the rescue, no; Leia did not owe them that either. They undertook that themselves. 

And he gloated on the way back to the  _Falcon,_  carrying six cartons from a strap in his left hand while the fingers of his right danced at his lower thigh, nervous without his blaster. 

Leia only carried two, held square before her with both hands, like the contents were precious. Amazingly, Chewie easily carried the remaining sixty-four bundled together. She followed behind them, watching the rhythm of Han's loose stride, wondering how he could buoy her the same time he irritated her.  

She recognized it, but that was all she could do. She couldn't summon admiration, and she tempered her gratitude, for this was for Alderaan, not her. He had got it wrong; he did it for her, to help her help Alderaan, but there was no help for her. 

Chewie and Han were running preflight. They were finished with Dantooine, yet Leia wasn't yet ready to return to the Alliance. 

"What would happen if someone plugged in the coordinates for Alderaan?" Leia asked from the navigator's seat as the engines hummed loudly below her feet. 

Han turned in his seat to look at her, his lips parted warily. The answer was obvious but he wasn't rude. He said slowly,  "They would be taken there." 

"Is it safe?"

"Safe?" he repeated. "Ain't no reason for the Empire to be there, if that's what-"

"I am aware it's no longer a destination, Captain," Leia snapped. "I was on the bridge of the Death Star when it happened. I mean safe for a ship, like the  _Falcon._ You said you flew through the-" she pressed her lips together. "Luke said the ship got jostled around a bit."

"She did," Han agreed. "And you're asking..." his open palm asked her to finish the thought.

"Because. Because... I want to go there."

Han sank back into the seat. He rubbed his face. He looked like he was torn, like he was summoning tact, but that wasn't how it came out. He said, "This isn't the time to get delicate, Princess-"

Chewie cuffed him on the back of the head. 

Leia noted it with satisfaction, but she kept her expression even. "I am far from delicate," she said "I'm still here, aren't I?"

"I am, too," Han said. Chewie cuffed him on the back of the head again but he didn't have to; Han actually sounded surprised.

He relaxed a little; he didn't like the idea of her delicate any more than she did, and his face changed. The muscles gathered around his eyes, and they were- kind of luxuriant, she thought, distracted a moment. She had once seen a ceramic art, where molten gold was poured over a still-damp, porous porcelain, and the finished clay seemed to glow from within-

"We carrying any perishables?" Han asked Chewie.

The Wookiee shrugged, but it was Leia who had helped inventory the cargo. "You're not," she said. 

"You want to go where Alderaan was," Han clarified.

"I do."

"We're in the Outer Rim," he said.

"I'm aware where we are."

"And that's traveling to the Core... Gonna take some time."

"I have it if you do."

"And the Empire does monitor the space lanes around the Core."

"I'm sure, in your experience, you've learned where to navigate to avoid the Empire," Leia said. 

"It's a real crowded area, sweetheart." Han looked at Chewie. "Sometimes you're just lucky. That's where we lost the spice."

"If we're stopped, you're carrying..." Leia sought to remember an item of inventory, "gloves and boots. It will hardly raise suspicions."

"And a princess."

Leia shook her head at him. It was silly to focus on her. "Surely you've had precious cargo before," she said dryly. "If we're boarded obviously I won't be a princess. I can be crew, a slave, your wife, or you can throw me in the smuggling hold."

Chewie added a warning with a growl. 

"True," Han said. He looked at Leia. "The Empire'll be watching for YT freighters. Since this one escaped the Death Star." He patted the arm of his seat affectionately.

Chewie rumbled something sly, and Han smiled. "Right, and sent Vader's Tie into a spin."

Somehow, that memory, oddly happy for Han and Chewie, spurred them into action. Han stood at the nav'puter. "Gonna take some math," he said. "Can't use the exact old coordinates, 'cause probably a new gravity well," he muttered to himself, "and some'll  be good-sized asteroids by now..."

Leia looked at Chewie, who offered a lengthy explanation, but she didn't understand a word.

"I'll work it out," Han announced, his eyes occupied. He left the cockpit, nodding to himself. 

Chewie warbled kindly at Leia, lifting a furry arm after Han, and she got up and followed. 

He really did have to do some math, and was already engrossed in it at the engineering station. He had tossed Luke's poncho from the seat onto the holochess table. From the lounge seat, Leia watched him appreciatively. It was a quiet glimpse into the real Han Solo, she thought. A man, a nice man really, somewhat like herself. He wanted to go back too, she guessed. He wasn't being accommodating with her. She couldn't quite say how he was being. Maybe he just wanted to share. 

"OK," he announced after a time, not gloating now but still proud of himself. "Got it. Go back and strap in."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Han worked out a route that would have them emerge on what was Alderaan's eastern relation to the Core. Planets within the Core were close to each other, just hours-long travel on sublight engines, and the use of hyperdrive engines in the space lanes was prohibited.

But right now they were days away. Hyperspace was quiet, except for the reassuring hum of the ship engines.

Too quiet. Leia was alone in the cockpit, still strapped in. Han and Chewie went to set up the sensor array so they could hijack communications and jam their own transmissions to remain undetected. 

She wished she was free. That was all. Just free. 

Not dead, she rushed to be clear to her conscious self. The other part of her, deep down, wanted freedom from... Leia had to look away from the cockpit window to figure it out. Just fly, and do nothing, be nothing. But she couldn't. There was... something; something in her way, blocking her, preventing her. And Han couldn't shoot it away from the gun turrets. She would have to pound it away with her own fists. 

 _It's me_ , she realized. 

Dr. Renzatl had asked Leia about difficulties resulting from trauma. It sounded quite clinical. "A body ails easily," Dr. Renzatl had explained. "Not so a mind. Often, the body will act as a signal when the mind needs to heal."

Aspects. Wedge Antilles had nightmares, Luke struggled to sleep. But Leia slept, mostly, dreamless until a voice screamed her awake. And she ate, when someone reminded her to. She didn't disagree with the doctor. If it had been anyone else she would have said, _of course, my gods._  But it wasn't anyone else, it was just her. 

It wasn't that she was different. Or better. No, not at all, and she sent a quick apology out to Luke and Wedge, wherever they were. It was... the doctor wanted her to move on, past. 

That wasn't true. The doctor was kind. Understanding. She wanted to help. She wanted to talk. Like Luke, just let it out, all of it, the pain, and the sight of it, and the memories, good and bad. Leia would never accuse Luke of suffering less, of loving less, yet that's exactly what she was doing. 

Alderaan, and her father, and all those... and the butterfly. It's love, Leia thought. Love is not trauma. She would think of her father, his sad smile- it was always sad, from her earliest memories- and she would not let him go. Nor the sight of her home rising out of the valley when she returned from Coruscant, the hills green and the water sparkling blue. It was better to see that than what she had witnessed on the Death Star. She would love Alderaan and everything in it, on it, forever. She couldn't let it disappear, how clearly she saw her father's smile, how green the valley was, not even how vividly the planet broke apart. 

Never. To cope meant to let go, and that meant she had stopped loving. 

Abruptly, like a particle of dust distracted her, she flicked her head and then realized she was still strapped in. She pressed the buckle to release the crash webbing.

Han was in the engineering station. He started explaining to her when she appeared, about monitors and shielding, but she wasn't listening, turning instead in a slow circle. 

"-from anywhere in the ship-"

"Is this where General Kenobi trained Luke?" she interrupted.

Han glared at her, his mouth still open. 

"Luke told me General Kenobi gave him lessons in lightsaber training."

"He waved it around some," Han allowed. 

"You have a target remote?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not asking just to make conversation, Captain," she said. His sudden laconic turn was annoying. "Where?" 

Han pointed with his eyes. "There."

She locked her gaze on him, and he returned it, waiting. They stood there, looking at each other. Finally, Leia said, "I want to try."

It seemed he was waiting for that. One corner of his mouth went up in a grin. "I ain't got a lightsaber, sweetheart."

"With a blaster." She beckoned with her fingers at the one he had retied at his thigh.

He smiled fully. "I've seen you hit a wall." He moved to a storage hatch and brought her a small gun. "It's a _training_  remote," he emphasized. "Not gonna let you shoot up my ship."

Leia bounced the weapon in her hand. It wasn't real, she decided. It felt hollow. "Did Luke chop up your ship?"

Han laughed. "No. It was set it so Luke was the target. Defense." His tone became mocking, "Supposed to use his feelings."

"It worked though, didn't it," Leia said. 

"Well, the remote was winning for a while," Han said. "But yeah, the kid got in a lucky hit."

Leia nodded. "He used the Force." She nodded again. "Luke will be a Jedi."

"Not if he doesn't find someone to help him," Han answered. He returned to the engineering station and turned a dial, then pushed a button. A small orb rose into the air, humming loudly. It hovered, and Leia thought it was regarding her.

"I'm guessin' you're not a sharp shooter," Han said. 

Leia gave him a small grin. "There was a lot of wall," she said wryly.

He laughed again. "It's set on stationary target mode."

"What does that mean?"

"It won't fire back. And it won't move. Once you learn to aim properly, you can set it for more challenges. This," he tapped a finger on the small gun in her hand, "doesn't have the firing mechanisms of a real blaster. So it doesn't have the kick, or the weight. Turn it on here," he showed her where the activation latch was and stepped back. "Give it a go."

Leia looked at him, then at the remote, still hovering. "How long will it stay up?"

"Charge lasts a couple of hours."

She nodded, and brought the training blaster up between her two hands, her arms even with her shoulders. She closed one eye, found the remote, then switched which eye she kept open. "How do I aim?"

Han nodded, pleased. "Lesson one. First, your stance. Arms are good. I can't see your legs under all that gown. You don't just stand still. You want to be stable. Keep your knees soft."

She widened her legs, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "With one eye, or both?" she persisted.

"Depends," Han answered. "For targets, you can use one eye. A dominant eye. But that's like a laboratory setting. Useless in real life. In the field, returning fire, adrenaline messes with your body."

"Adrenaline is your body's reponse," Leia countered. 

"Whatever. Your eyes dilate. You gotta use both eyes."

Leia aimed, the gun held high and centered in her vision, her elbows almost locked. She pressed the trigger, and watched as a gold beam tracked its way in the direction of the remote, showing her how far off her aim was. She made a noise. 

"Don't be mad at it," Han said. 

She dismissed him with an absent wave of her arm. "Let me get this," she ordered him. "Finish with your jamming."

"Whatever you say, Your Heightness," Han said, lifting his rear off the edge of the engineering station. She held the gun high again, her eyes frowning in concentration, but asked herself if he had sounded disappointed as his back retreated toward the cockpit.

On the seventh round, she hit the target for the first time. She lowered the gun, feeling a little victorious despite the fact that it was an accident. Then she couldn't remember what she had done that scored a hit. She had to experiment with how she stood, how she positioned the weapon, how she sighted it. On the thirteenth, she finally scored a second hit, and told herself, _one more_ , refusing to lower the weapon. Number fourteen hit, as did fifteen, but the sixteenth missed. 

She made herself take a break, stretching her fingers and rolling her back downwards, grabbing her ankles and breathing deeply. While she rested she saw herself taking aim. Then she picked up the practice blaster again. 

Xxxxxxxxx

Traveling through hyperspace was not down time, Leia learned. The _Falcon's_  crew of two kept busy, working the cockpit in shifts and monitoring equipment everywhere else. She heard Han and Chewie talking about something that wasn't functioning properly, and though Chewie seemed to worry over it more than Han, she decided it couldn't be too important or the Wookiee would smack his captain on the back of his head again.

After a snack- Leia refused to call a ration bar a meal, and gave Chewie her uneaten portion- she unhooked the targeting remote from the charger. 

"Playtme again?" Han complained. "We come out of hyper in three hours," he reminded her. "I'll need you to look sharp."

Leia holstered the training blaster and rolled her shoulders. Her hands moved on their own; she was looking at Han; she wanted to ask him something that had been bothering her. "What did you mean when you asked if I'd gotten cold feet?" she finally said.

The change of subject was a surprise to Han. He clearly had no recollection, and Leia cursed herself for asking. One part of her had guessed that he had been merely talking to make noise. He pursed his lips. "Maybe I was suggesting socks," he said.

Leia tsked impatiently. "It was after I missed my transport. You asked if I got cold feet about meeting Vader again."

"Oh," Han remembered fully, nodding largely. 

"Did you think I was going to let Vader perform my suicide?"

He looked at her funny. _Looked_ at her, the way she'd come to rely on, eyes smelted gold and porcelain. "Far from it," he said. "Thought you were thinking of taking him out yourself."

"Oh," Leia said. She liked that answer. 

"Were you thinkin' that?"

"No. I wasn't thinking of Vader at all, to be honest."

Han nodded his approval. "It'd be a waste of time," he muttered. 

"Which?"

"Waste of time 'cause then you could only hit a wall, but not a Sith Lord. Wouldn't want him havin' the honor of killing you." He wagged his finger angrily at her. "Not your idea or his. No."

"I can hit a speck on a wall now," Leia said. She was ready for him. "Watch." To the rhythm of a slow heart beat, Leia fired off six rounds, hitting the remote dead center each one.

Han smiled broadly. "Nice," he said appreciatively. "You're a fast study. You'll make a fine smuggler someday."

She handed him the training blaster with a flourish. "Captain Smuggler, care to show a student how to take a Sith Lord down?"

"Come on," he scoffed. "On stationary?"

Leia nodded. "Since you think I have room for improvement."

"If I used a real blaster," he said, taking the gun from her and holding her gaze, "my ship wouldn't be shot up, and the remote would be broken."

He flipped a switch on the engineering station and the remote began to move, sometimes darting quickly to the side, sometimes dropping low or swerving near the ceiling. He dropped lightly into his stance, and Leia noticed he kept one leg forward, firing almost lazily. In the time it took her to score one hit he found the moving target three times without fail. 

He handed her back the gun. "You're ready for mobile targeting." 

"Show off," Leia told his back, and somehow she knew there was a smug grin on his face.


	19. Observations, VI

Dr, Renzatl had arrived early. She had tried not to, not too early anyway, but there she was standing in the stark reception room of the Minister of War's office with nothing to look at.

There were no holos on the wall, no maps showing the position of the enemy, which Dr. Renzatl thought would be interesting to view, no framed flimsis detailing the Minister's speeches. Just plain walls, no chairs, and an assistant too busy at a desk to make idle conversation with her.

It could be the office was a statement. A reflection of the ideology of the Office. A reminder to visitors to keep their minds focused on the task at hand. They were at the new base now two days, and the Minister's office was unpacked. Dr. Renzatl thought of the shelf in her own office, and all the manuals, propped up by two blackened pieces of brick. The Minister's office was always ready to flee, the doctor realized. Stern practicality was the decor, nothing more.

There, Dr. Renzatl thought as she tried not to pace, I learned something today.

She was asking herself the last time she had consulted a manual, and if she really needed them of if they were just for show- something else to learn- when the assistant spoke. "You may go in, Major," and he pressed a button on the desk.

Dr. Renzatl turned to face the door. "Thank you," she answered, and any hidden nervousness bloomed into a more rapid heartbeat.

"Albrina," Mon Mothma offered a hand in greeting from the other side of the door. "Thank you for coming. It is good to see you. Please, come in."

Dr. Renzatl followed her in, thinking as she did if the Minister of War had ever used her familiar name before. It had been a long time since they last met. What could the Minister of War want with her now?

She hoped it was nothing like General Dodonna's calm statement that he expected the Empire to blow up the moon they were standing on. She still hadn't gotten over the shock. She'd dreamed of it a few times. It was always different: she might be in her office, at home; once she was her sister moments before the bombs fell, but in each General Dodonna was there to tell her she would die.

The last time she had met with Mon Mothma, it had been called a resistance. TRAD didn't exist, and the group of Senators were still secret enough they didn't yet fear for their lives. Resistance was followed by Rebellion, and now it was the Alliance. Hopefully it would find its last, permanent name, simply the New Republic. Dr. Renzatl had been involved throughout, closing her private practice to help build a unit of the military once thought unnecessary since the Old Republic used clones for it soldiers.

Mon Mothma's trajectory, of course, had risen quite spectacularly, from traitorous Senator to Minister of War. They didn't have much in common, Dr. Renzatl thought, other than the throne Sheev Palpatine built for himself.

Hard to believe his punishment to Corellia was almost twenty years ago now, Dr. Renzatl realized. A year after he delivered his fury upon the planet Dr. Renzatl was still trying to rebound from the horrors of the bombing. The secret resistance she found kept the wounds fresh; each year that passed seemed like the galaxy was forgetting her sister and her nephews. She didn't know if Mon Mothma had suffered a personal hurt. Maybe for a career politician, watching a government die was quite similar. It must have been, for why else would the Senators plot to depose their leader.

Albrina was not a militant nor a strategist. She had no idea how to bring the Empire down; she only knew it was important to do so. Civil war had been planned from the beginning. She understood that. She imagined great battles set in space, the Emperor present on his own ship, leading the charge, inspiring his pilots to die for him.

That's what the kings and queens of Old Corellia had done. Was it the passage of time, the wounds she couldn't see, that had her approve of this method of war? The resistance had no true leader at the forefront, yet revolution traveled the galaxy like on a wind. The escalating numbers of retaliatory deaths made the doctor uncomfortable. The loss of citizen life, just because they lived as Imperials, was bloodthirsty. The Empire might have forgotten her sister; the Rebellion did not. While they celebrated their revenge, Dr. Renzatl thought of the other grieving sisters they had created.

So it must be near twenty years since they last met, Dr. Renzatl brought her thoughts to the present. A long time. The Minister didn't mention the passage of time, or politely inquire how Dr. Renzatl spent the last two decades. She observed that Mon Mothma's hair was now an artificial auburn and her skin was starting to sag. Probably Mon Mothma saw the same in Albrina. But she was very familiar, still radiating that intensity, her voice consciously kept quiet and slow.

Dr. Renzatl took the offered seat. "Thank you, Minister," she said, setting her own tone. She moved her shoulder to the side so a droid could pour a cup of kaf and present it before her.

Mon Mothma added sweetener to her cup and stirred. ""Something has come up," she began. "There has been a development, and I wanted to speak with you about it."

"Of course," Dr. Renzatl replied, her curiosity piqued. She crossed her legs, settling in for a long conversation.

Mon Mothma took a big breath. "We are trying to account for the whereabouts of Princess Leia Organa."

"Princess-" Dr. Renzatl's eyes widened in surprise. She stammered a little, unsure why she was being informed. Mon Mothma appreciated psychology, but she knew it wasn't fortune telling. It couldn't do much to help locate a person.

"I don't see how I can help," Dr. Renzatl said now. "You say she's- she's missing?"

The news was certainly unexpected, though Dr. Renzatl was trying to assess if it actually surprised her.

Mon Mothma nodded curtly. "She was scheduled for the same transport you were. She should have arrived here two days ago, with you."

Dr. Renzatl moved her eyes away from the Minister to think. Was there a quiet accusation in Mon Mothma's voice? "I didn't know that," she said, feeling like she was indirectly being held responsible. "There were still two or three transports in the hangar."

"We know. And we know she did not board. The shuttle delayed its liftoff for a short time to wait for her."

"Yes, I recall there being some activity," Dr. Renzatl murmured. She picked up her cup and sipped, finding she needed to do something with her hands.

"- but General Dodonna insisted on adhering to the schedule, because of the danger of the Empire." The Minister of War looked harsh. "He said that every man was responsible for himself." She let the statement hang in the air.

Dr. Renzatl barely attended the disapproval in the Minister's voice. General Dodonna's reaction was no surprise; he was a consistent man. Instead she was reviewing, in her mind, the last time she saw the Princess up to the moment she boarded her transport. "I saw her," she said, recognizing it wasn't very helpful. "In the hangar."

"That's what I wanted to ask you," Mon Mothma continued. "Do you think it's possible she is still on Yavin?"

Dr. Renzatl set her cup back on the saucer. So that was why she was summoned. Mon Mothma wanted to speculate, and in the doctor's experience, that was usually a waste of time.

"Isn't there a way to check that?" she asked.

"It's not likely a search will be authorized. Not for one person, even if that person is a princess," Mon Mothma said. "Intelligence reports the Empire is now in the sector. As much as I want Princess Leia safe, I would not be such a fool to risk the safety of the AllIance."

"I assume there have been attempts to contact her."

"Of course. They tried to comm her before departure. There was no response. They also searched, briefly; in the time allowed there was no way it was comprehensive."

Dr. Renzatl reached for her cup again. She felt like she was missing something. Maybe she needed to adjust to the difference in tone from meeting Mon Mothma twenty years ago and seeing her again. She asked herself, If it had been just a pilot left behind, would she have been summoned?

No, she was able to answer. This was about the Princess, certainly, but not about her procedural offense. The Minister of War was not conducting this meeting. A concerned woman was, who just happened to be the Minister of War.

Dr. Renzatl uncrossed her legs. "I don't see, Minister, how I-"

"You spoke with her, didn't you?"

"Yes. She initiated it. The Princess introduced herself as I was checking my bag."

"In your professional opinion, Albrina, do you think the Princess would deliberately stay behind?"

"Without any kind of evidence, my professional opinion doesn't mean much, Minister. Even if the Princess granted me permission to share it with you, which she has not." This was a gentle reminder of TRAD's privacy policy. It irked Albrina she had to keep giving one, as if TRAD was gossip during a kaf break.

Mon Mothma stared stonily. Dr. Renzatl was prepared for a reprimand, but when the Minister spoke again, her voice fell to a desperate hush. "She's Bail Organa's little girl, Albrina."

Dr. Renzatl nodded once softly, letting the Minister's emotions come under control. If one threw a stone in suck sand it would land with a plop and disappear. Grief was like a stone in water. It sank, but it's ripples extended outward wider and wider.

Twenty years, she thought again. Mon Mothma and Bail Organa had been colleagues a long time.

Time did have a way of freezing. Dr. Renzatl knew it personally. She still saw her little nephews coming down the stairs as if it were yesterday, but they would be grown men by now, if they had been allowed to live and not trapped under the rubble of their home. She knew the tiniest details of her memory, the way their little hands gripped the railing; so clear, a memory decades old, and sometimes it was hard to understand the bombing was real. It must be the same for Mon Mothma.

"I will offer my personal opinion," she said gently, and Mon Mothma lifted her head, the corners of her mouth moist, "the Princess is a lovely young woman."

Mon Mothma nodded, her hands folded tightly on the table. "They were close," she said, as if to herself. "I can't help but wonder..."

"Wonder what, Minister?"

"He was devastated when we told him of her capture. I made the call. Bail... It was the last I spoke with him. He said... And the thought entered my mind..." Mon Mothma trailed off, lost in memory. Then she regrouped, her haunted eyes back on Dr. Renzatl. "Did you ever think something, Albrina, and be angry with yourself for thinking it, but the thought won't go away?"

Dr. Renzatl, still gentle, smiled. "Yes."

"I thought, what if he gave up?"

"Gave up?"

"Not then. He was devastated. I knew he was. She was his daughter, and he thought he was receiving word of her death. But he accepted it. He knew, they both knew, of the risk she was inviting. That didn't make it easier for him."

"No."

"I told him, and he... didn't speak. 'Bail, it's about Leia.' He knew, right then. That was all I had to say. I had to ask if the call was still connected. My heart broke for him. And I don't remember everything we said! It frustrates me so. Our last comm. If I had marked it somehow..." The Minister's finger rubbed the saucer rim back and forth.

"The thought I had," she resumed after a while. "It was after Alderaan... I was thinking about Bail, there on the planet. If he was thinking how he was the only one of his family left. His wife, now Leia gone... If he knew, and how much time there was... and I wondered if he... let it happen. If he gave up."

"Minister, it was the largest laser the galaxy has ever seen. It destroyed a planet."

Mon Mothma nodded her head briskly. "I know, I know. But- could he have left. Could he have saved more lives? His own? Or did grief change him, make him... give up." She began to speak more rapidly. "What if he knew she had survived? Been rescued? Would he have acted differently? I just don't know."

Dr. Renzatl's voice was soft. She wanted to reach out and touch the other woman's hand, but she was the Minister of War. "You may never know."

"I suppose not. And now, with Leia... It just seems so unlike her! My mind just leaps to explain. My assumptions seem so wrong, but it's all I have."

Dr. Renzatl slipped her voice in softly, to console. "In getting back to my personal opinion of the Princess, she is very deliberate. Of course, the decision to remain behind is precisely deliberate, but in that case I don't think she would have bothered to introduce herself, or to even bother with a behavioral assessment. Do you?"

"Confound it," Mon Mothma sat back in her chair with a fond smile. "What I don't know anymore. Leia- the Princess. She is a lovely young woman. And so brilliant really. Whenever I visited Alderaan, Leia was with us. I remember her under the table once. She was very small. But she grew up... listening, do you know what I mean? Such a capable assistant to her father, with such a grasp of the issues at hand. I wouldn't put it past her to make it look like she wanted us to think she stayed behind, but also I can't think what would possess her to not board..." Mon Mothma massaged her temples. "I just want to know where she is."

"Is it possible she boarded another transport?"

Mon Mothma sagged relievedly in her chair. "I'm glad you brought that up," she said. "I asked the same thing. Jan- General Dodonna didn't deem it worth discussing, but he's entitled to his opinion. At least he is checking for me.

"There are six satellite bases in total; here and five others. Passenger shuttles took sentients and freighters carried non-sentient and equipment. The freighters were scheduled multiple drops. Travel time varied, or course. But eight days later, all Alliance shuttles have checked in, and all report no sign of the Princess. Freighters have been told to check in as soon as they receive the order. Not all drops are completed, but so far no word that the Princess stowed away on a freighter. Why she would-" Mon Mothma pursed her lips. "However," she continued, "one freighter is overdue at its first drop."

Dr. Renzatl spread her hands. "I think you have your answer right there."

"Yes." Mon Mothma still looked troubled.

"It doesn't explain why or how she missed her assigned one," Dr. Renzatl continued, "but at least you can now ask her."

"Yes. Yes." The Minister frowned. "I still cannot comprehend the nature of her reaction. I can't see that she would opt- there must be an explanation."

"Overdue isn't necessarily good news, either," Dr. Renzatl mused over the Minister's ramblings. "Could they have met the Empire anywhere in their travels?"

"Scouts reported the Empire entered Yavin's system six hours after the last ship evacuated. The other satellite bases are clear. The Alliance is safe, for now."

Dr. Renzatl was trying to cut through the information. She could do nothing about the Empire. She was useless when it came to the whereabouts of missing freighters. But a missing Princess... "What freighter is it?"

"The one that brought her in from the Death Star."

"The one with the two men and the Wookiee?" Dr. Renzatl asked to confirm. Oh, yes. It was plainly obvious where the Princess was.

"One man and a Wookiee. Commander Skywalker is with a squadron of X-Wings. He has reported in."

Luke Skywalker earned himself a high commission, Dr. Renzatl said to herself. Aloud, she had a question to pose. "Why is the idea of her on this freighter so upsetting?"

Mon Mothma resumed her tracing of the saucer. "Jan didn't consider this worth discussing either. That the Captain of that freighter forced her aboard."

"She knew him from the Death Star," Dr. Renzatl said firmly.

"Yes, I know-"

"Minister," Dr. Renzatl shifted in her seat to soften her words, "Why are you doing this to the Princess? I don't believe you have any evidence for this opinion. I'm sorry to sound like General Dodonna, but-" The doctor paused, wondering how to get through to the Minister. "She told me she wanted to speak with both Commander Skywalker and the freighter captain- I forget his name- before leaving."

"She'd taken her oath," the Minister tried to support her argument. "She had an assigned transport. She's been through a hell of an ordeal. And that Captain..."

"She knew him from the Death Star," Dr. Renzatl repeated.

"Yes, but he demanded money for her return. Said he'd heard there'd be a reward, but there was no such thing. I had told Bail his daughter was most likely dead! Why would we have a reward? It's obvious the type of man he is. What if he brings her to the Empire? What if he ransoms her?"

"I think," Dr. Renzatl said slowly, "if you permit me my professional opinion of you, Minister, that you are failing to recognize, and allow, for the Princess to be devastated."

Mon Mothma began a sputtering protest, but Dr. Renzatl held her hand up. "You say Viceroy Organa was devastated when told about his daughter. Why shouldn't the Princess react in similar horror? You admit to me your mind is making strange leaps and assumptions, why shouldnt' that also be true of the Princess?

"As far as the Captain goes," Dr. Renzatl continued, "He was granted the Medal of Bravery. And maybe he did learn of a reward, however unlikely that is." She was trying to recall the details of Princess Leia's narrative of her rescue. The Princess had insisted it was an accident. But also that Captain Solo carelessly allowed his ship to be brought aboard the Death Star. Could Kenobi have promised payment? She shook the thought away. It did not matter, and Dr. Renzatl was neither a historian nor detective.

"You are defending him," Mon Mothma observed stiffly. She shoved her cup away like it was an angry thought.

"I'm offering a different viewpoint," Dr. Renzatl stated. "His ship was aboard the Death Star, and it took part in the battle over Yavin. I would think there would be a reward for his capture now, so I don't believe he'd be able to ransom the Princess off to the Empire. Not without getting killed himself."

"I suppose that is sensible," Mon Mothma allowed.

"Yes. And I will repeat what you told me: it is the ship that brought her away from the Death Star. You don't think that would have significance for the Princess?"

"You seem to think it would."

"I can assure you it does." Dr. Renzatl stood. She refused to feed speculation any longer. "Rest your mind, Minister. As long as that delayed freighter is safe, I believe the Princess is also. I am sorry for your loss. I understand what Viceroy Organa meant to you. Just don't let the swirling questions you have about his death color how you treat Princess Leia's survival. That is not fair to her."

Mon Mothma also stood. "Thank you, Albrina. I admit, I've been... distraught. And terribly worried. The mind works in odd ways. Your presence tells me that. Tells me what a fool I'm being. Gods. Why would I... that I almost preferred the thought of her dead? of her own design? over taking off in a private freighter?"

"It's how you characterize the events," Dr. Renzatl told her. "You wondered if Bail Organa surrendered to grief. You apply the same to the Princess."

"Perhaps. I feel now, in hindsight... I wish I hadn't made the call. To Bail, about Leia."

"I understand," Dr. Renzatl said. "You regret it because you didn't have all the information at the time." She drifted toward the door.

"I was mistaken," Mon Mothma said. "His last moments were unbearable grief."

"Whatever the Princess's motives are, please know she is not wrong," Dr. Renzatl pressed. "You want her to be assured that her father was happy she survived. And proud, and relieved. If she had that, you think she wouldn't go off in a private freighter."

Mon Mothma followed the doctor to the door. "I think that's true." She sounded surprised.

"When you see her," Dr. Renzatl waited for the door to slide open, "don't be afraid to tell her of her father's grief," she advised. "It will show her how deeply she was loved."

Mon Mothma had herself firmly under control. She pressed the door controls and nodded. "Thank you, Albrina, for meeting with me and clearing my mind. This meeting was for me, personally." She straightened her shoulders, and when she spoke again, the measured purpose of her words had returned. "We still need to discuss the refugee situation, but I'll allow you time to pull your team together. My assistant will schedule a meeting."

Dr. Renzatl nodded professionally at the dismissal. She breezed through the assistant's office, who opened a second door to the hallway for her from his desk. "Goodbye, Major," he said without looking up.

She didn't bother to answer. The meeting had given her a lot to think about. She found the motives of the missing Princess keenly interesting, but refused to reflect on them until she had a chance to speak with her again.


	20. The Graveyard, I

If she did this, it would be real. 

No, if the captain pointed out the cockpit window at the rocks swirling towards the ship, and said, "That's Alderaan," she would not have to believe him. She would not have to accept it.

She should see, instead of what was out there, not recognizable- she would make him fly everywhere, until they found it- the planet that looked green and blue. Three large continents, colored green for the land, ribbons of blue here and there that were rivers, snaking their way to the ocean, a seamless expanse of blue separating the continents. 

Space was cruel. Cold, airless. When a tree died on Alderaan its green leaves turned brown and insects and fungi made it their diet. The wood grew soft, and birds made it a home. In space, you couldn't tell a tree from a brick or bone. 

She would see _something_ , of course. That's what she was afraid of. _Yes,_ she confirmed to her thumping heart,  _I am afraid._

And then she was back on the Death Star. Not in front of Darth Vader, who hurt her so terribly, but Grand Moff Tarkin, who was admonishing her like she was a child, "You're far too trusting," whose gaunt face simpered at her like a kindly grandfather.

And what he did! Turned not just a planet into nothing, took who she was, all she had known, but made her _afraid._

It was easiest to die, but Luke hadn't let her. And it was easier to scream in pain, but Han didn't allow that either. But they couldn't cure her of the fear, and she was so...  _angry_ at Tarkin. 

He had died the same as her father. And he didn't deserve that death. He didn't deserve the Death Star. What he deserved-

She was going to see what was out there, the swirling rocks, the sun's light that reached farther than it had before- because she didn't want to be afraid of it. It deserved her love. It had been her home. 

She was going to see what was out there, and... she didn't know. She might not be afraid anymore. She didn't want to be. 


	21. The Graveyard, II

"You ready for this?"

Han didn't have to swivel in his seat to talk to her; Chewie had gotten up and let Leia have his. She sat cocooned in it, enveloped by its oversize. Han still had her strap in, "in case" he had said, but the seat was so big she could draw her legs up, her knees at her chest. She had brought a blanket out from the crew quarters, too. It was sky blue and thin, not very warm, but she wasn't cold. 

She only looked at him. She could tell her eyes were large; they felt stretched open at the corners. They did it on their own but she lacked the muscle control to return them to normal. 

"I'm gonna bring us out," he forewarned her. 

Hyperspace was sound more than sight. The ship's engines let a traveler know they were in motion while outside it didn't look like anything was happening. Just a frank blackness. Leia held on to the view one last time, because very soon it wouldn't be that simple. Han pulled a lever downwards and the engines clunked. 

"Switching over," he said apologetically, and cocked his head, listening. A thump came, and Leia could tell a different set of engines had kicked into gear. "There," he said, satisfied. 

First came streaks of white as the ship slowed, starshine light years old. Then the streaks solidified to white dots. Finally, space had features: closer suns, blazing infernos; swirls of gas and solid spheres of rock and life.

"We'll be there in a minute," Han cautioned. "I set it a bit farther than I thought it would be."

She thought back to the calculations he made by hand. "Should I be nervous?" she answered with a tease, just to let him know she was all right.

He grinned. "Nah."

"I'm not a spacer," she said. "Or even a pilot. I never really thought about space travel as dangerous."

"It's as dangerous as anything, I suppose," Han answered with a shrug. "But using hyper takes some skill. You don't wanna bump into anything."

The pace of her heart eased. She thought about how she'd lived, Princess or Senator Leia, wrapped up in herself, relying on her pilot to bring her all sorts of places. She took space travel for granted, she supposed.

"Does that happen often?" she asked him.

Han kept a sharp eye on the console while sneaking a few glances out the cockpit window. "Given the number of ships in flight at a given moment, no. But the holonews always makes a big deal about it.

"Luke watched," Han remembered. "Didn't even strap in. First time."

"Poor Luke," Leia said. First time out of hyper, and what he saw was the unnatural end of a planet. She felt sorry for him. When he stood behind Chewie and Han, holding on while meteorites bounced off the ship, it had to remind him of coming home to find his aunt and uncle. If she was in his place, that's where her mind would jump. He hadn't said anything, more worried about upsetting her, but he didn't have to. She knew him. 

"Do you see that haze?" Han pointed. "That's the physical location of Alderaan. It's her dust. Molecules of dust, and the sun's gravitational pull will make 'em come together, 'til they're rocks like this band here. Excuse me," he said politely, and stood to reach abover her head. The belly of his white shirt was near her cheek and the edge of his spacer's vest bumped her hair bun. "Shields," he explained. "Chewie's job."

She nodded silently. Her eyes were large so she could take it all in. _Molecules of Alderaan,_ and the thought was somewhat comforting. For wasn't that how planets formed? Gravity pulling more and more pieces of mineral together, until they were big enough to form an orbital path? And after a billion years, if the conditions were right, life might form? 

Alderaan had been destroyed, she mused; that was true. Killed by the Empire. It wasn't the first to... to die; suns were known to do that and sometimes they took a planet with them. And weren't all suns dying? Leia frowned, trying to remember the science. They were burning, consuming themselves. But science called it a death. How poetic. They would have to call Alderaan a murder.

She watched the rocks, Alderaan as victim on her mind. Out here, with all the suns and stars and planets, it just didn't seem possible. That a life form could grow bigger than space, dictate what happened out here. Billions of years or one push of a button....

Rocks swirled but all the time they were pulled, towards one another, together. It was so... constant. Calm.

But while Alderaan had been destroyed, maybe... also... she dared to think, maybe, it was... interrupted. They'd happened upon her like she was back at her beginning, stepped back into time. Someday- someday, Alderaan might be a planet again. Only it might again take billions of years to be the place Leia knew, and she would never know.

Would anyone remember? Not remember exactly like in a memory, but in a timeline of history? Would someone- if there was such a thing a billion years from now- would the old star charts have a meaning? Could they be read? Was the story of Alderaan passed down through the millennia, and children grew up, generations of children, studying space in school...

The first generations would point a little stubby finger up to the night sky, and tell their parents that gap in the star system was made when an ancient empire destroyed a planet. Later, descendants of those first children would point a similarly stubby finger and talk about science, not history, and admire the place in the sky that was the process of a planet being reborn. Alderaan again. 

Oh, she had such longing right now, looking out the window, as the rocks- some big, some smaller- hurtled towards them, veering off as they met the _Falcon's_  shields. And she stared at the haze, and wanted to tell her father what she thought, that it was terrible and unnatural, but that the laws of nature would get to work, and someday it would _be_ again. 

And she had such a perspective of time. All the years it took to become Alderaan. A lifeless rock, revolving around the sun; it had taken billions of years for the wind to form, for the soil to layer, for the magma to cause the mountains to rise, for water to condense and then freeze and then thaw. And the creatures that had once roamed the surface, evolved or died out: there was proof of them. They left their fossils in rocks, they got caught in the sap of trees. She had seen them in the natural history museums. 

Her breathing was shallow and her eyes huge, and she was willing to wait. To sit a billion years in the cockpit, waiting. And when the time came, she would point out to Captain Solo, "There! There I am. That's who I used to be."

The intercom beeped. She was aware Han flicked his eyes at her. "Yeah," he answered Chewie. 

Leia watched the rocks while Chewie spoke.

Han said, like he deserved it, "Thank you." More rumbling came out of the speaker. Leia felt Han's eyes slide to her again. "I think so," he said. Then, "No." He put his elbow on the console, catching her attention. "Chewie wants to know how you are."

She looked at him. From inside the speaker, Chewie growled something. 

"He says you're silent."

Chewie's tenderness made her smile, her lips together, and she thought her eyes might be glittering. 

"She's still bein' quiet," Han told his partner, "but I think she thanks you for your concern." He turned to Leia. "He wants to know if he can come up front."

Her knees had been shielding her heart. She lowered them guiltily. "Of course," she said, and realized something heartfelt. "I want him to see."

Han put a hand on her knee cap but didn't let it linger. "He didn't ask to sit, Princess. Stay." He waved a hand toward the outside of the cockpit, trying not to speak and ruin the moment. "I'll, um. You... Let me know when you're ready, alright?"

She settled back into Chewie's seat, her eyes already back on the rocks. "Tell him thank you," she told Han. 

"Him," Han said. "Sure."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

What she really wanted to do was keep Alderaan company. Sit, and watch as the dust moved away and didn't need her anymore.

The rocks were hypnotizing. Luke had gone home and found something gruesome; Leia gave each rock her love. They prompted memories, and they belonged out here. Nowhere else. She remembered the first boy that kissed her, the time she made her maidens abandon their chores to go swimming, friends staying overnight, giggling. _A million voices._

But life was so gritty and impatient, and getting up to use the 'fresher was going to break the spell. Her bladder was growing so insistent it made her forget what story she was telling a rock. 

Bladders had a function, and so did Han. She'd kept him from making the Alliance deliveries. Suddenly, Leia started. The gloves and boots- somewhere cold _,_ Han had surmised. What if the delayed supply was important. What if Alliance members were somewhere cold and had no protection?  

It was time, Leia decided. Time to go. 

On the way to the 'fresher she came upon Chewie and Han in what appeared to be an argument. The Wookiee's voice was low, in a menacing growl; she'd never heard such a sound from him before. It hadn't carried to the cockpit. His muscular arms were stretched out, shaking. Han's arms were also busy, one sticking a finger dangerously close to where Chewie could bite it, the other bent at the elbow, ready to throw a punch.

"... they travel?" Han's voice was angry. "A hundred kilometers per second. And you're just going to invite one in-"

Chewie threw his head back and roared in great frustration.

"I said no!"

Leia looked at them as she passed but the paid her no notice. She wasn't gone long, but they were still at it when she emerged.

"...doesn't fit you, so it'll be me, and that's not the point, 'cause once the shields are down anything it hits is pulverized!"

"What's going on?" Leia asked. 

Chewie answered, offering a full explanation of the cause of their argument. She didn't know why he bothered since he must know she understood nothing.

"Ya feel better, you big oaf," Han said, still sour. 

Chewie started up again, full of emotion. 

"Let me tell her, all right?" Han said. "You stand here and listen, and if I'm paintin' it my way, as you say, you can interrupt."

"What is it?" Leia said, concerned.

"Ah, it's him," Han said, turning to her even though it left him vulnerable to those huge furry arms. "Some Wookiee nonsense. He wants to get you a meteorite"

"A what?" Leia said flabbergasted. "From out there?"

Chewie mimed plucking something from the air and holding it close to his chest. 

Han, irritated, said, "He oughta know better by now."

"Is it," Leia said, her imagination catching, "not possible?"

Han looked at her suspiciously. "He wants to stick me in an EV suit, lower the shields and stand me on the hull, while I catch one." He shook his head and spoke over the Wookiee's howl of protest, "It's not physically possible!"

"What did he say?" Leia asked. 

"To use a net, or a bucket."

Chewie sounded like he believed it was a sound idea.

"Yeah, go ahead," Han said, fully sarcastic. "Sweep what's left of me into your bucket after I've been pulverized."

"Didn't the ship handle the debris field before?"

Han widened his eyes at her in disbelief and frustration. "Yeah, but on sublights she travels almost as fast, and she's shielded."

Chewie sounded like he was offering an alternative. 

"What now?" Leia asked as Han shook his head.

"His other genius idea is to open the airlock and let one in like a bug on a summer night-"

Leia smiled a little at his colloquial description. 

"-let it bounce around 'til it gets tired. I don't need to mention how much damage that'll cause. Haven't begun to mention the radiation."

Leia came up with her own idea, and looked at Chewie apologetically in case he had already mentioned it. "Is the ship equipped with a tractor beam?"

"No." The bob of Han's head seemed to say this was the only possibility. "The _Falcon_  will not be the ship to bring you a piece of Alderaan, Your Highness. I'm sorry." The correct use of her title sounded rare.

Chewie spread his arms wide. He cocked his head at Leia and howled mournfully. Leia smiled at him and stepped into his hug. His fur was soft and tickled her nose. "That's all right," she told them both. "I wouldn't have thought of it if Chewie hadn't." 

The Wookiee continued to sound sad. Leia rubbed the fur on his arm. "Why is this so important?"

"Just Wookiee lore. He ought to know better now, he's seen a billion of 'em."

Chewie roared, and Han was good enough to translate, Leia thought, though he probably could have told her without going through Chewie first. 

"Wookiees live in the trees. Just under the top. The leaves and branches are the, the ceiling-" Han adjusted his translation after an interruption from Chewie. "-the sky. So they don't see the real sky much, just patches. There's day light, and there's darkness." 

Han turned to Leia. "Did your culture map the constellations?" he wanted to know. "Make up shapes for 'em?"

Leia nodded. "Of course." 

"Well, Wookiees don't. They could now; now they've been offplanet, but they don't. 'Cause they don't see the stars much from the trees, you see. So, a shooting star is really rare."

Leia found Chewie's blue eyes. "I see," she said. 

"Wookiee lore says a shooting star is a fallen spirit. And Wookiee's don't leave- not their homes, not for a hunt, not to wage war- for nine days."

"Why nine?"

Han looked up at Chewie. "He don't know. The idea is you stay still so the spirit can find its way home and not get distracted by mortal life."

"That's lovely," Leia said. 

"Yeah, well. It's just a story. Chewie's seen too many stars to think they're all spirits, right? And very clearly these are rocks." Han looked pointedly at his partner.

"I like the empathy of the story," Leia said. She was speaking to Chewie only. "I was just in there," her head leaned toward the cockpit, "thinking about the rocks. And they prompted me to think of people I knew. Not like they were spirits, but like they told a story? I wasn't thinking to help anyone get home. Maybe for the rocks to be a home.

"And we were weren't moving. We were still," Leia said. She had no idea how long she spent, watching; it wasn't near nine days. "A shooting star is far from home, isn't it, Chewie? But these are very close."

Chewie's tone was gentle, despite the harsh gutteral tones. Leia looked at Han. 

"He said you're probably the fallen spirit. And you found your way home."

Leia's eyes filled and she hugged Chewie again to leave the wetness of her tears on his fur, that when she looked at Han again her eyes would be dry. "Thank you for bringing me." 

Han snapped his fingers. "Wait," he said. "I got something."

Chewie woofed a question, and Leia heard herself doing the interpreting though it was her guess and Han wouldn't need it. Probably she and Chewie had the same thought. "Something to catch a rock?"

"No, something for you." He strode to a storage cabinet and was rummaging about. Chewie came over to ask what.

It was in the second cabinet. Leia smiled in sympathy for the object. It was a lopsided candle. 

"Told ya I had one," Han bragged.

Leia kept smiling. "It's a sorry-looking candle," she appraised it, letting her fingers caress his knuckles as she took it from him. "Why do you have it?"

Chewie and Han exchanged a glance. "We were somewhere," Han said. "The power where we were docked wasn't too reliable. Want to throw it out the airlock?"

"It won't burn."

"Out there, no. But you can light it in here. Let space snuff it." She seemed to hesitate. "Chewie doesn't know why it's nine days," Han pointed out. "Do you know why yours is a month?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure if there's a specific reason, other than it's a set time period." 

"I can't stay a month."

"I know you can't. That's why I-"

"-but I could come back."

"No." Leia shook her head, deciding. "I'm here now. Let's light it and let it go."

 

 


	22. Longing

Han had to dig through the nav'puter's history to reclaim the coordinates the Alliance had sent him... how many days ago was it?

He had winked at her again. "Be funny, wouldn't it, if I lost 'em? Comm Luke: hey, where the hell am I supposed to go?"

"No, that would not be at all funny," Leia said.

Han had shrugged. "At least we got Luke to turn to."

"Luke is not a designated contact. He's only a pilot and we'd get him in heaps of trouble."

The mention of Luke tempered Leia's mood. Funny, that Han would be the one to mention him.

"It feels like forever since we've seen him," she said. "I hope he's not lonely."

"He's flying with a squadron," Han pointed out. "Which means he's living with a squadron. There's no way he's lonely."

"I wonder how his Jedi training is going."

"It probably isn't."

Leia nodded. Luke was ascendant, on the rise from farmer to Jedi. She could see it if Han couldn't. In some way, though they were talking about Luke, she had applied the conversation to herself. Not that she had any kind of training to do. But she felt the same. Luke would be frustrated, maybe even a little isolated, and she understood that.

 _It probably isn't._ Just what was she supposed to be doing? And why did she feel put upon, when this was all her doing? It was she who caused the delay of joining Mon Mothma, wherever she was.

Leia began to feel a little guilty. Not for asking Han and Chewie to detour for her; that had been important. It had been right. And they were willing. Not once had they made an effort to talk her out of something. Question it, yes; balk, no. That alone meant a great deal to her. But the Alliance was quite possibly having a fit.

The thing to do... the _polite_ thing, Leia thought wryly, would be to ask Han to make one more stop in the Core so they could send a message. But Han was not polite. The delay didn't concern him; the Empire in the space lanes did. He preferred the ghostly maneuvers of hyperspace.

It would be three more days to the first base drop. Leia decided to check in then and find out where her destination was. She assumed it was the same place where Mon Mothma was, and she was keeping her fingers crossed the two- Han's coordinates and the location of Mon Mothma- coincided.

The next leg of the journey meant she would be living on a freighter with a man and a Wookiee for well over a week. It made her miss her father. She wanted to tell him all that had happened, talk about all the changes, explain how even though she wasn't living like a princess anymore, she still felt like one.

And he would smile, that patient, indulgent smile only a father could offer. 

Somewhere at home, its remains now contained inside the Graveyard, was her star yacht. The mattress in her cabin was at least twice the thickness of Han's. It had a galley, and she traveled with a cook. Maidens, of course. A security team. Two passenger lounges, with port holes to watch space from a body conform seat, a water shower. There was even carpeting, she thought, noting the heads of rivets sticking out of the floor panels of the  _Falcon._ The maidens would ensure her reputation remained intact and the security detail would separate her from the crew. 

She didn't mention it to Han. It would ruin the trip. He had some sort of attitude about... not princesses, or royalty, Leia thought, but privilege. The only way to describe it was that it pissed him off.

On the _Falcon,_ she could feel the metal bars under the mattress in the crew cabin bunk. They ate rehy, she played chess on a bench with torn upholstery under a tube of wires, she sonicked herself clean. She was alone a good deal of the time. 

Leia's path intersected with Luke's. That's how she met him, she thought, on his way to greatness, because she was a fallen Princess turned freighter passenger. 

What had her father told her in the dream? _We all do what we must._

She decided the analogy was a poor one. This was not a descent. Her father would understand too, she thought. This voyage lacked the surreal quality everything took on after the Death Star. She hadn't woken in a frantic panic for several days now. She had learned to shoot. She could count from one to ten in Shyriiwook, or at least understand when Chewie did it.

It felt natural. This, however, was not the same as a happy thought. It couldn't be natural because it occurred out of the aftermath of Alderaan's destruction, and that was not natural. And the Princess Leia of old would most likely never find herself on a freighter or listen to a Wookiee speak. Not even for the Rebellion. Even her mission to get the Death Star plans was an elaborate ruse of diplomacy and royalty.

She could shoot, she could count. She could even smile. She lived with Han and Chewie. And her gut told her this was right but there was a lingering emptiness. Being with Chewie was nice. He was wonderful, actually. Even their inability to communicate was just what she needed. It removed any expectations. It removed the need to think.

Han sometimes intervened to translate, though she didn't want him to. She liked to let the Shyriiwook grunts and growls wash over her, be absorbed into her.

"This is the basis of their counting," Han burst into explanation one afternoon when he got impatient with the constant repetition of the number six. "One is," and he made the approximate noise Chewie did, and the Wookiee laughed. "Two," Han went on, "is, and listen." He made a different noise. "It translates as 'one again'. Right? Three is one again, one."

His attempts at Shyriiwook, a language humans weren't biologically equipped to speak well, continued to make Chewie giggle. "Four-" Han held his hand out, like an invitation to dance but he wanted her to answer. She shook her head.

"Two again. Which is really one again, again. Don't ya hear it?"

Leia concentrated. And she was able to pick out a common sound. Han helped her not just repeat sounds but hear words, and her ears began to open to  this difficult language. And she found it characteristic of what she knew of Wookiees so far. Large, simple concepts became building blocks to more complex ideas. "So five is four, one? Two again, again, one."

Han beamed at Chewie. "Again. And again and again and again. Your first real word besides numbers."

Han was a study in self-restraint. Actually Leia couldn't describe what he was; self-restraint was probably wrong. It was't composure or reserve but a type of awareness. Not of the self but of him around others.

But he was different around her now than he had been their first trip together, from the Death Star to Yavin, when he tried to make himself offensive. Chewie explained it, and of course Leia had not been able to understand, and Han was too grumpy to translate, and that alone gave her a sense of him. He had been panicked, she figured on her own; either that or embarrassed.

And that was why Luke was never offended and liked Han. He saw through the bluster. Leia decided she liked him, too. Back then, that first trip, she couldn't tell anyone anything; not even two plus two, because she doubted it. Now rudimentary things, like counting and identifying emotions, had returned to her. 

She spent much of the time in quiet observation of the pair. This was what they were doing before Alderaan disappeared from the sky, and they continued, almost without missing a beat, after. They'd added a farmer and a princess, which baffled Han, and which in turn amused Leia, but she couldn't fault them. 

Chewie took the first shift in the cockpit after they made hyper. Han and Leia sat at the gaming table, positioned side by side at the widest part of the bench's curve. Travel supplies were getting low ("didn't count on the detour," Han had drawled, to which Leia had rejoined, "you should always be prepared for an emergency") and they had to share a ration bar. Luke's poncho, which Leia had folded neatly, was on the bench on her other side.

"I really miss that candle," Han said now, slouching downward and stretching his arms out along the bench. "Nice atmosphere to eat by."

Leia smiled, remembering the crooked, dirty candle he couldn't find in the cabinet they had sent out to join the rocks of Alderaan. She till had a chunk of her bar left. "Did you get enough eat?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

She leaned her head back against his forearm and sighed. She saw him look at her, and he changed which ankle crossed over the other.

"I think I know why Chewie's people don't go longer than nine days," she told Han. "The waiting period for the lost spirit."

"Been thinkin' about it, have you?"

She nodded, keeping her eyes straight ahead and up toward the ceiling. "I have. I decided it's because someone got hungry."

"Hungry? What do you mean?"

She fluttered a hand. "Or out of oil for the lamps, or another tribe encroached on their territory and they had to defend. Do you know why I stayed as long as I did looking at the debris field?"

"No," Han said, one word making her want to hear his voice again.

Leia returned to the Wookiee story of the shooting star. "I decided the waiting period ended out of need," she said. "They were out of food, and needed to get something to eat. I had a need," she said.

Han turned his head to look at her. "What was yours?"

She rolled her neck to face him, and their height difference gave her a closeup of the scar and the interesting path his lips took because of it, even with him slouched low. She smiled. "I had to use the 'fresher."

A laugh of surprise left him and he kissed her temple, curling his arm around her shoulder to bring her closer. "You had to pee, huh?" he said, still laughing.

"Set it in stone," Leia laughed lightly back. The kiss was unexpectedly affectionate, she thought, a relaxing of that self-restraint. "From now on, when anyone visits the graveyard, they stay only- how long were we there?"

"Not quite three hours."

"Let's call it three. And don't tell anyone the origin of the pilgrimage is because of Princess Leia's bladder."

He was still laughing, and Leia listened, waiting to see if he would kiss her again. It would be nice if he did, she realized, a little surprised at herself. It made her review her behavior over the years.

She had to go backwards. There were two kisses to Luke's cheek. The last one was for solace. He was mourning Ben, Han's refusal, his own upcoming death, and she wanted him to know she would mourn him too.

The first one was spontaneous; an eruption of emotion bursting out of her. They were about to swing on a cable, across what looked like a bottomless chasm on the Death Star. It was Luke's moment, when his heroism really started to blossom. She was congratulating him on it, for she was pretty sure it wasn't going to work. "For luck," she said, because without it they would fall to their deaths, but she preferred it over being shot by storm troopers...

But man to woman. Had she ever...thought it? _Kiss me._

She dated. Sort of. If one could call arranged partners at a ball a date. She was freer on Coruscant after her election but she was careful of the hologossips. She also felt funny, alone without the gossip of the maidens and aware of all the eyes on her.

One boy had kissed her, and she knew it was coming. She remembered thinking, _ach, he's going to kiss me,_ and she had let it. Closed her eyes, leaned into it, thought, _this is a kiss._

It had been nice. Careful. Kind of forced, or awkward, like the boy had been planning it. One shouldn't plan kisses. The boy, Leia thought. Han was far from a boy.

This one wasn't planned. And not really romantic. 

But it could be. Her palms started to sweat when she realized it could be, that she...

But she missed her opportunity. If she had lifted her chin, strained upward a little bit, maybe his lips would have met hers, but the problem was only his fingers were lightly rubbing her shoulders, and  the spontaneity of the moment passed.

Why was she no longer brave? She could hold off Darth Vader, beat him at his own game, but she couldn't turn to a tall, teasing smuggler and say, "kiss me." She couldn't twist her own body to his, lift her hand to his neck, and bring her lips to meet his. 

Her head still rested against his forearm. He would have to get up, start hyper duty, as he called it. She ached; lonely and burning, but she couldn't move. 


	23. Dread

This wasn't a moment of now or never, like when she had slinked into the shadows of the engineering room on the  _Tantive IV_. This was just the inevitable. Leia didn't understand why she was so on edge. 

It was just a landing. Space was calm; the flight was smooth. Chewie and Han were ready.

"Back to business," Han had said.

Leia supposed he was right. Maybe that's what the landing signified to her. 

She had a history of landings. Some she should have made, some she didn't get the chance too. It seemed the older she got, the more important- the more symbolic- they became. 

And Han and Chewie looked like they needed rest. Chewie had grown quieter. There was a slump to Han's shoulders she hadn't seen before. Even Leia, who was treated as a passenger and not given any crew duty, was tired. The pull of lightyears after zipping through time was taking its toll. She wanted to ask them if it was common to spend so much time in hyper, but didn't want the answer to be 'no' so she retreated to her quarters.  

She sat on a bunk, hands clasped and pressing the fingers together. The base was as yet unidentified. She didn't care about that. In a way this base was like a hyper jump, just a stepping stone. But the _landing_  gnawed at her. This one. Others.

The  _Tantive IV_  never made it to its final landing coordinates. The vessel, plain and durable, was boarded by Darth Vader and more storm troopers than was safe to occupy the entire ship. Leia remembered how she was... tense. Not frightened, but tense, waiting for the inevitable. Now, sitting on a bunk of the _Falcon,_  she was... nervous, and she chided herself for overreacting. 

Inevitable. That too, though- looking back, knowing the outcome, what transpired aboard the  _Tantive IV_ is now the inevitable. Her capture, destined. The mission failed. The crew, the maidens-

Why are things opened ended, she wanted to know. Why, if this was inevitable, if it was the last moment of normal she would ever know, why didn't something tell her to not just wave at her father from under the arch of the saluting crew? Why wasn't she permitted to... she couldn't know it obviously, but sense it? Strong enough to turn around on the ramp of the  _Tantive IV_ , which now, as she is sitting on the bunk, she sees is not just a ramp, but a... a threshold, a curtain. Something was waiting on the other side. 

Her father knew. Did he? Is that why he had come to see her off? Had he seen a northern hawk circling the tarmac? Had he looked up, squinting against the sun, shading his eyes, and spotted the large circling bird whose bright green dots of plumage charted out some sort of path of warning? Would he take the vision back to the temple, ask the goddesses to interpret?

Why didn't she descend the ramp, take the time to make the moment matter? 

She hadn't seen a northern hawk. Her father feared for her, that was all. 

"I know the risks," she had said. To her, the mission made perfect sense. Looking back, she really thought she was going to pull it off, didn't she. 

All those people she brought. 

Her father was afraid, and she was bold and mistakenly confident, and in their moment of destiny, he was too paralyzed by fear to break the arch, and she was too dismissive to turn around.

If he had seen a hawk- he hadn't; there was no omen- he would go back to his office and build a rescue plan. He would stay in contact with the crew of the _Tantive IV_ , he might call upon General Kenobi himself-

Instead he let her go. 

From the bunk, she reviewed the moment. It was like working a maze, she thought, when you reach a juncture and you choose a path. She can see the tiny wave she gave him, like she has been granted the footage.

The perspective is from the top of the ramp. Leia watches herself begin to ascend the ramp, and her eyes met the first few faces of the crew, their right arms raised to form the arch and their eyes directed at it. Before she crossed the threshold into the ship, she turned around, and too far away for his voice to carry over the noise of the ship is her father. She might not be able to hear him, but she could see his eyes. Even now, from the quiet of the crew quarters, his eyes are blazing. And Leia's smile to him was small. Her only hope now is that when he sat in his winged back chair, thinking of her after the Alliance made the call that told him she was arrested, he saw that smile as vividly as she saw his eyes now. 

And then she let him go.

"Alright, Princess," the intercom brought her Han's voice. He sounded impatient, or irritated; the fallout from their delayed arrival was just beginning. "It's now or never," he said. "Come out and meet our hosts."

The coincidence of the phrase struck her, and she closed her eyes against the words, and shook her head with a wryness her father did not deserve. 

Hosts. Luke might be here, she was thinking, trying to bolster a way that brought her out of a reluctance she couldn't explain. It would be good to see him.

 _Leia!_ he would shout, running heedlessly through the protocol to give her a hug, and they would let him, because he was Luke Skywalker, hero.

He would dive right in. _They told me you were missing, but I wasn't worried. I knew you'd be with Han._

Leia surprised herself at the tone her imaginary conversation took. _Is that so?_  she would answer, arching a brow. 

 _I want you to be happy,_  Luke would tell her, boyish and earnest. _And you leaving on the Falcon makes me happy._

How Luke's happiness meant hers, Leia had no idea, but she did want him to be happy.

Or this base could be Mon Mothma's command, and Leia could stop drifting finally. 

Mon Mothma... when Leia pictured her, her father was always there. Her mother too, but Mon and Bail were old colleagues and friends, since long before Leia was born. 

She knew it was stupid to think it. It was beyond the realm of possibility; yet there it was, in her, and she couldn't stop it: a landing scenario she could imagine. Descend the ramp, look past all the activity that told her somehow this was Mon Mothma's base, until her eyes rested on two still figures. Mon Mothma of course, in the wildly patterned tunic traditional to Chandrila, and her father, wearing the same suit she last saw him in because he hadn't time to pack before-

His smile at her would be torn with emotion at all he had made her suffer; so sorry, but so glad too, and she would forgive him, so happy...

And they would tell her a great, fantastic story. How Bail Organa escaped his doomed planet and Mon Mothma helped him elude the Empire and brought him to her hiding place...

Mon Mothma was crying in her holomessage, Leia reminded herself. She _knew_ better, knew it was useless, but she couldn't stop thoughts of her father waiting for her, a possible fantasy.

She wanted this landing to be personal, not business. 

When she reached the cockpit Han and Chewie were talking, in Shyriiwook and Corellian. Listening to them...no, not listening to them; coming upon them deep in conversation confirmed what she suspected of herself. Her existence was... sometimes, or ghostlike. In and out, like a bad connection. 

Chewie asked something, an introspective tone in his growl. 

"Sick," she thought Han answered in his native tongue. She wasn't sure. She didn't think she was right, because the context was hard to fit. 

Chewie said, clearly, "Again." Leia was proud to recognize the word. 

"Mm," Han muttered in any language, and he sensed Leia, turning around as Chewie said something declarative. "Shino-ak," he told her, ignoring Chewie. "I'd heard rumors of this place."

"Had you?" she answered, standing behind his chair to get a good look out the cockpit window.

Chewie shook his head. 

"Yeah, you pick up bits here and there," Han said casually. 

"How has the Empire not managed to pick up anything about it if smugglers talk so easily?" 

They were already deep into atmo. There was no telling what the planet looked like. Just the base. No trees, hard-topped roads, long white buildings aligned in two columns. It had a look of maturity about it. The base at Yavin had seemed clumsy. The temples were adapted for reuse. It was more an occupation. Shino-ak was built. 

"Smugglers don't talk if the Empire is around," Han snorted. "No one wants to get arrested _that_  easily."

Leia meant to grin at Han's assessment, but her stomach was sinking a little as the _Falcon_ made her approach.

"How do you know the Empire isn't around while you're talking?" she asked to hide her nervousness.

"Talk is over a drink and a deck of cards. Not to a stranger."

Missile cannons followed their path and it wasn't a loading crew that was rushing outside with blasters held at the ready. Instinctively, Leia knew: this wasn't where Mon Mothma was.

"Why do you talk about places like Shino-ak?" Leia kept talking. "What kind of interest would a military base hold to a bunch of lawbreakers?"

"Rebellion's breaking the law, too," Han said. "Right? You were arrested for treason. B'sides. It's good for business."

Leia observed the tired set of his shoulders."Good for business how?" She imagined a bunch of beings, shadowy and resourceful and opinionated, revealing secrets that took on little weight other than as rumors.

"Empire's gotten slack about trafficking. Too busy fightin' people like you," Han told her. "'Course," he flipped a hand over, and quickly returned it to the console levers, "it goes both ways. Piracy is up. So's the slave trade."

"Hmm," Leia grunted at the irony of listening to a smuggler complain about crime. "You should consider running for the senate," she commented dryly.

"If there was one," Han shot back.

He was just making observations. Sharp ones, perhaps, but nothing that put him at any risk. Leia could spur him on if she wanted to, about politics and economics and social decency. How when the Rebellion achieved victory the New Alliance would be bad-mouthed by smugglers same as the Empire was. 

Nothing was going to make a difference to these outlaws. It was a depressing realization. Han would always remain on the opposite end of the spectrum from her. Right now, in this time of uncertainty, lines were blurred and they could work together. When the lens were sharpened, however, Leia would go back to her corner, clear and focused, and Han would what? Escape through a crack, go underground. _And then what, Pati. What will it have meant?_

It had to mean something. The realization came swift and hard. Not just victory. Leia needed more.

Han and Chewie went back to their languages. Talk, she thought ironically, and she lost track of what they were discussing. By the tone, and their body language, it was probably the routine of flight. 

"Everyone got their orders?" Han asked in Basic to the room at large and Leia nodded, fingering the data chip in the pocket of her Death Star gown. 

"They're gonna do a sweep first," Han said. 

"A sweep?" Leia noted sharply.

Han nodded. "We're overdue. Empire coulda compromised us a hundred ways. They gotta be careful, Princess."

Their surprise appearance must resemble the landing at Yavin, Leia thought, though she couldn't remember it. She frowned. She hadn't known- Where did the memory go? Yavin, she told herself. Suck sand. 

Yes, she answered. She could see herself walking along a path, but that was _after._ The ship, though. Luke. 

It was a blank. She remembered the flight, leaving the Death Star. They battled Tie fighters and she had done little things at the behest of Luke. Wash, rest. She had loud conversations with Captain Solo about medscans and money. But the landing- how she delivered the plans, introduced the others? What it looked like, what she said- she had no idea. 

They waited under guard outside the  _Falcon_ , not talking. Chewie growled occasionally, not liking the way the ship was handled.

Leia studied the surroundings. Luke wasn't running to her, hustling oblivious through the guards, overjoyed. She squeezed her hands tighter and thought she really didn't want to land....

Leia wondered what she would say in her briefing. And who would brief her? Would she brought straight to Dr. Renzatl? Was she here? She didn't feel like saying anything. She would take responsibility, though, for the flight path of the _Falcon._  She would not discuss her unorthodox, incorrect manner of departure. She saw now it probably raised some concern. But it wasn't- she was arguing already- what was the term Dr. Renzatl used? Crisis event. It wasn't that.

Landings. Leia grit her teeth and plowed on with her thoughts, keeping herself in check while the scan crew stomped around inside the _Falcon_. She continued the recital of her history of landings, rehearsing the parts she would give Dr. Renzatl but not the others. This was business.

The  _Tantive IV_ had made two. Phony ones, but not really. The tour was phony; a cover for delivering the plans, but Leia figured once they were out she would treat it for real. She had never been to the Outer Rim Territories.

She had invited the holopress along. She insisted on being open; that was her cover. She thought it would look more sincere if Emperor Palpatine received news of her travels. 

Possibly that had been a mistake. Vader's starship located the _Tantive IV_   too easily. They hadn't had time-

Even the native beings suspected her visit. One told her, through C-3PO as interpreter, that no Imperial official had ever visited. Ever. He was quite emphatic. Leia had nodded understandingly and instructed C-3PO to ask the being to list any concerns.

She asked the journalists to send holocasts. She asked for huge amounts of data from the holoweb, things she could have gotten from C-3PO. Populations, languages, the weather and history. She wrote wordy missives and sent them to every Senate committee. She kept the flow of information to and from the _Tantive IV_ in constant motion, so that when the plans to the Death Star were transmitted, it would be just another large file Princess Leia needed for her diplomatic tour.

The maidens didn't know about Leia's secret mission. Sentiment among Alderaani was anti-Imperial, so when Captain Antilles told Leia, in the presence of her maidens, about the Star Destroyer requesting them to stop for boarding, they had all reacted in various degrees of protest. 

Any merriment fled their faces when Leia had jumped to her feet and ordered, "Under no circumstances are they to board. Set course for Tatooine, and tell the crew to take to arms."

She had to act quickly. Sift through all those incoming files, locate the plans, extract them, and all the while the Star Destroyer was gaining ground. She would have liked to explain to the maidens, comfort them, but she had them wait in her quarters. 

And she knew exactly which ones had been stoic, which ones stared at the door with large eyes and held breath, which ones cried fretfully and the ones who hushed them, for there were twelve maidens and each was their own character, and she knew them well.

Leia folded her arms against her stomach and pressed hard. Chewie made a noise of concern. 

Oh, she realized it all of a sudden. The control a princess of Alderaan had! But then the Death Star took her power away. Princess Leia had become like a maiden. There didn't seem anything she could do about. 

Except land. She had to land.  

 

 


	24. Longing, II

Han had an act. The angle he cocked his head, watchful and merry- Leia had seen it before. And the small conversations he attempted with the guards ("Shino-ak. Doesn't that mean 'vacation cottage'?"): it was all one big act. Or it was many, many small ones, convenient for him at the time, and... what else- entertaining?

How callous. Or was _that_ an act?

What wasn't in the act was he was proud- smug, really. Shrewd about most things, but not all. He called Luke 'kid'. Leia's thoughts smiled at this. And he was waiting for something. The scan crews were aboard the _Millennium Falcon_ , going over the cargo, sweeping for trackers, and checking communications. He, Chewie and Leia waited outside, under guard. The Mon Calamari guards had told them not to speak. That was for the briefing, Leia knew. If they hadn't gotten their stories straight by now they wouldn't get the chance. And yet they let Han try and spark a conversation.

Leia wanted an act. If she had an act she would _do_ something, and it didn't really matter what, because it was an act, and it started something.

Covertly, Leia regarded Han. He'd made no objection to the invasion of privacy of the _Falcon_. Was it going to raise suspicion that they had jammed communications while in the Graveyard? If so, he seemed not to care, only he was expecting something...

She toured the ship in her mind. There was nothing that stood out, nothing incriminating. Only- Luke's poncho was still on board. Leia knew exactly where it was, carelessly draped atop the gaming table; it was the one thing that looked personal, like the ship was a home. But it was Luke's.

She was certain Han had planned it that way. That was the gleam in his eye. The crooked slant of his mouth was a secret smile. He wanted the scan crew to pick up the poncho and make assumptions about it. False assumptions. Luke had merely left it behind, a lifetime ago, but for Han to use it-

Leia jerked her head, snapping thoughts back on herself. She wasn't going to waste time on the motivations of a smuggler who could just be playing games.

She could greet the guards, introduce herself. Play the father card. "I'm Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan." She would offer a hand- no. The aquatic Mon Calamari made eye contact and opened and closed pursed lips two times. She had made a study of greetings on other worlds. She would explain the reason for her presence, "My father helped Admiral Ackbar obtain Shino-ak."

Or demand to see Admiral Ackbar immediately. Act like the imperious royal Han thought was bossing him around on the Death Star.

Oh... Leia looked back. It seemed an act begat an act. Which was first: hers or his? It was instinctive, the way they responded to each other. Reactive.

But his were also quite deliberate, like the way he was being now. "It's Mon Cal, right?" he asked, like a comedian with a dead audence.

She knew if she had asked him to say nothing, he would. She was fairly confident of that fact, just not the reason why. He might do it for her. Because she was the Princess from the Death Star. Because he thought she was bossy. Maybe because there was something about her he liked.

She was not condoning his behavior, but if there was to be a reason, she chose that one.

Or, it might be to nettle the Alliance. Annoy them with no explanation for why they turned up nine days late except that he was contrary. Leia hoped this was not the case. This was a serious matter, and it was her fault.

He could be exacting his revenge on the Alliance for the shabby treatment they received when they landed at Yavin. He was angry they hadn't put Leia through a med scan. This, while flattering, was not acceptable.

Chewie was putting on an act, too. He stood behind Han. Leia could see the outline of his tensed muscles under his fur. He rumbled threateningly in his throat and pulled his lips back from his teeth. It put the guards on edge, and weapons remained held ready.

She didn't like to see a question go unanswered. Wanting to know the origin of the name for the base was innocent and valid, and the guards were pretending they hadn't heard Han.

"It does mean 'vacation cottage' in Mon Cal," Leia confirmed. She left the impression that she was fluent in Mon Cal, but this was not the case. Her father had shared communiques between Ackbar and himself about Shino-ak.

"Ah!" Han smiled down at her. "Thought so."

"May I ask you a question?" Leia risked more conversation and no one stopped her. "Do you behave like this when you get stopped in the space lanes, or have to go through the Port Authority?"

Han feigned innocence. "Behave like what? Friendly?"

"You have to be praying no one notices the smuggling compartments," Leia said. Then she nodded, thinking she understood him. "I suppose you could bribe officials," she mused, and bent an ear to her shoulder to look at up him sideways. "But that would cut into your precious profit. You'd rather..." and she pretended to study him, "charm them off your ship."

He gave her a different smile. He was enjoying their repartee. That didn't seem to be an act. "Works sometimes," he said.

"And when it doesn't, you have Chewie," Leia surmised, indicating the menacing posture of the Wookiee.

"Something like that."

"How did he get to be your partner?"

Han's fingers twitched at his thigh, indicating the guards. "I'm gonna tell you now?" he said.

Just to herself, Leia smiled. She enjoyed when she could exasperate him. It meant she was better at his own games.

Then she realized it might be their last interaction, and she had to learn to say goodbye. Once they were cleared from the briefing, Leia would depart to assist Mon Mothma, and Han would take off to deliver the rest of the cargo. Then who knew where he would go after that.

She wasn't going to ask him. She found she really didn't want to know; she would act like she didn't care, not if it didn't include... her...

Leia jerked her head again. It sounded- conceited, or something- she didnt mean that. She meant the Alliance, the Rebellion, following up after the Death Star...

"What did you do with the Medal of Bravery?" she said suddenly.

"Huh? The- oh. It's on the ship. In my quarters."

Leia nodded. That was a satisfactory answer. An honest one.

The scan crew was starting to emerge from the ship, and sure enough one was carrying Luke's poncho.

She stepped forward. "Excuse me," she said. "That belongs to a friend of mine. What are you going to do with it?"

The scan tech was a Duro. Shino-ak was the kind of base her father dreamed of one day seeing but Leia was too focused on the poncho to appreciate it. Blue-skinned Duro, aquatic Mon Cal, tusked-furred Bothans, and humans, all living together. It was quite a feat. There weren't many places in the galaxy compatible to so many life forms. Shino-ak had put in a lot of effort. Han and Chewie had pointed out air filters and grav adjuster units to her earlier.

"We're going to put it through a molecular dye scan," the Duro told her, not impolitely. "The unit's not mobile, so we're taking it to the department."

"What's with you and clothing?" Han interrupted to ask Leia.

"You'll get it back," the Duro was still explaining. "Might have a spot of damage where we remove the dye-"

"You're checking for secret messages?" Han sounded disbelieving.

"- but I'll scan where it won't be so visible. What's your friend's name?"

"Luke Skywalker," Leia informed the tech.

"He didn't miss it on Yavin; he ain't gonna miss it now," Han said.

"It's Luke's," Leia said firmly. "Don't involve him."

"I'm not! You're the one puttin' his name-"

"Oh, Commander Skywalker?" the Duro put in.

"You're the one who left it out-" Leia said hotly.

"I don't do housekeeping, Princess-"

"Oh, but you do. The ship is spotless. They're not carrying the blanket I had in the cockpit. You put it away."

"He's a commander now?" Han unexpectedly switched gears and swiveled to face the Duro, the news of Luke finally sinking in. "What do you know."

He and Leia looked at each other. Luke's name, his solidified presence in the Alliance, halted their argument. Luke kept them connected. He was a reminder, even when he wasn't around, of their remarkable start.

"You'll have to call him 'sir' now instead of 'kid'," Leia said with a twist of a smile.

She was thinking back to other times they tried to take leave of one another; she, Luke and Han. She couldn't do it once, and so they found themselves awaiting a briefing now because of it.

Han was shaking his head. "Think 'kid' will slip out a few times," he drawled with a shy grin.

And the other time- Luke had been the one upset. But it was Han who couldn't do it. Yes, Leia remembered looking past Luke's shoulder as she'd tried to comfort him. Han was loading his reward while everyone else bustled about prepping for battle. His face was stony. That act, for whatever reasons he did it, had cost him. And he hadn't been able to follow through anyway. He came back.

Luke was the only one who did say goodbye and mean it, in the best way. He'd lost his aunt and uncle but he wasn't afraid of losing Han or Leia. Was it because he never would? He was able to tuck them in his heart and that was enough?

Leia wished she could be like Luke. Sure-hearted.

How would she say goodbye this time? She could do it, she thought. No plan occurred to her. None was needed. No act. Well, maybe a little. She wasn't going to ask Han to come back again. Not even to tell him, with a lilt in her voice, that she was holding him to telling the story of how Chewbacca became his pilot.

Nor would she confess he was important to her. He and Luke, and Chewie especially. Her first three after Alderaan, after the Death Star. She felt like she needed them. She wasn't like Luke. She was lonely, and she couldn't be alone.

Another Duro was approaching, followed by a translator droid. For Chewie's briefing, Leia realized. The guards took several steps backward.

Chewie shuffled forward and jostled Han.

"Not now," Han rolled his eyes.

Could Han do it?

Well, no matter how either felt, they had to do it. Nine days. It was bordering on ridiculous. Maybe they could help each other. And besides, Leia had a feeling it was not the last she was going to see of Han Solo. No matter what he insisted.

The Duro used her title. "If you'll follow me, Princess Organa of Alderaan. Admiral Ackbar would like to speak with you."

Leia nodded at the Duro but was still looking at Han. "This is where we part, Captain Solo," she said formally, and lifted a hand.

He looked down at her hand. His own came up, as if drawn. Whatever he needed, if it was to put on a show, bring her hand to his lips, she would allow it.

"You keep being a Princess," he said.

She smiled openly, because that meant so many things to Han, and the answer delighted her. She covered their clasp with her other hand and gave his a squeeze. His eyes might be saying something, but she had noticed before they were inconsistently beautiful.

She turned to Chewie. The Wookiee didn't want a hug. Instead he was speaking, and his head was bobbing side to side. It took some time, whatever he had to say. It made him even more wonderful, so she smiled at him and turned to follow the Duran officer.

Behind her, the translator droid and Chewie were talking, and a guard was giving Han directions to a conference room. At the hangar door, she turned for a final look. Han was pointing a finger at the droid. "And if that goes in the transcript I'll dismantle you, ya hear? And you shut up, you furry oaf."

Perfect, she thought. And her smile took a while to leave.


	25. Resentment, I

Repentance, II

Mon Mothma was a good friend of the Organa family. The Senator from Chandrila was always welcome on Alderaan. Leia remembered her visits. Her memories are from the mind of a young child, and now they are like emotions, confused and multi-layered. Mon Mothma liked to wear flowing, embroidered tunics and a brightly patterned Chandrillan head scarf wrapped her hair. 

She was friendly, with a boisterous laugh, and she always brought something: a bottle of aged brandy or a traditional folk toy for Leia. She talked to Leia as an adult. Perhaps it was the respect due a princess, even one sitting under the table, hopping a stuffed animal around her father's boots and under his pant cuff, while her parents and Mon Mothma talked. 

The times darkened, and visits turned into secret meetings, or coded correspondence from afar. Leia's father worried for Mon Mothma, she knew, as each kept a tally of the Senators that disappeared from the leadership of the Rebellion. 

"No one retires from this," her father had commented once. 

Leia had nodded in mute agreement, all the while trying to find an example that would contradict him, that would have her and him standing at the end.

When Leia looked at Mon Mothma now, seated on the other side of a desk, she saw a survivor. Untouched, alive. It was no matter Mon Mothma lived on the run, that she had escaped sabotage and an assassination attempt. The white robe, a nod to the Senators of old, seemed a misplaced martyrdom, the colors and patterns gone, and Leia held herself aloof, eyes colored with resentment.

Mon Mothma had said in her holomessage, "I want to grab you up in a hug," but they didn't. Now, after some time has passed, there is an office, and a desk and chairs and Mon Mothma is on one side, and Leia the other.

The fault was Time's, Leia decided. Then, when it was fresh, when it was pure sadness and loneliness and fear, she had put her arm around Luke's shoulders and she could comfort him. And she was comforting herself, too. "There wasn't anything you could have done," she told them, Luke and herself. "There wasn't anything you could have done." How she wanted to believe that!

Mixed in with the sadness of seeing each other again there are facts. There is the fact that Leia did not arrive on her arranged transport but much later. There is the fact that Mon Mothma is the Minister of War, and Bail Organa might be too, but now there is just his young daughter, who had been a courier of information and gotten caught. There is the unbelievable weight of loss, the great number of dead, and there is the fact of the changed shape of the galaxy, and the knowledge that humans on both sides share their own responsibility.

"Leia," Mon Mothma started the conversation. That was all she said. Mon had watched her grow up, Leia reflected. From the toddler under the table, her father's boots a playworld, to... now, where it felt like growth stopped.

Leia waited, and looked around. The office was sparsely furnished; a desk and things on it. The chair beside Leia was empty.  That was how things were to be now, she knew.

She had left Shino-ak, the only passenger on a small shuttle, after meeting with Admiral Ackbar. The _Falcon_ was still in the hangar but there was no sign of Han or Chewie. 

Once she had lost a stuffed toy, she suddenly remembered. Maybe being in front of Mon Mothma spurred the memory. She and her parents were about to leave, from somewhere to somewhere; that part was vague. She was on Alderaan, because she remembered the ship; it was  a blue atmo craft. Her mother was at first understanding and patient, and they went through the luggage together but the toy was not packed. It was the velvet purple one with large ears, Leia remembered. Her mother let her look but then it was time to go, and no one would take her back to other places she might have left it, and she had cried.

What had caused little Leia's tears, her older self wondered. In her memory, she was crying for the toy. It would be alone, she told her mother. It would think she didn't want it anymore. "I didn't mean to lose it," she had sniffled, her little heart broken. 

She thought now it would have been better to cry for herself.

It felt odd, to depart on something other than the _Falcon._ Leia reflected on her first impression of the freighter. "That," she had named Han's ship while on the Death Star. _You came in that._ The shuttle was clean, in excellent condition, and as Leia boarded, she whispered a private joke like she and the _Falcon_  were telepaths, "I'm leaving on that."

Her briefing had been anticlimactic. Probably it was worse for Han and Chewie. Admiral Ackbar didn't even bother going through the motions. She had been brought before him, a princess before an admiral, at the request of the Minister of War. Deep down, she recognized an unfairness. Her personal acquaintance with the Minister, her title... she was being accorded favors no one would consider for Han.

Admiral Ackbar was busy with a command to worry about, but when the Minister of War asked for something, she got it. He pursed his lips and opened them at her from under his water respiratory unit that encased his head. His large and bulbous eyes were kind. 

"The Minister is concerned about you," he said. Having to travel through water made his voice fuzzy.

"I don't need concern," Leia told him. "I apologize for causing your crew to take these extra precautions but it is a simple explanation. I missed my transport," she hedged, "and since I was the only passenger aboard the _Millennium Falcon_ I asked Captain Solo if he would take me to the Graveyard of Alderaan. It is true the trip was a personal excursion. We were gone so long because it is some distance away."

"There's discussion of disciplinary review," the Admiral warned her. 

Leia wanted to laugh. She did, in her head, and she wondered if she were hysterical. "Of course," she agreed, though she shook her head no, and wanted to shout and sweep things off his desk, _I may be a princess but here I am nothing!_

That was all Ackbar wanted with her. He told Leia he would report to the Minister and asked her to step outside and give a statement of how she passed the last nine days to an aide. It would be used to verify the information Han and Chewie provided. Within an hour, she was on the shuttle to Mon Mothma's location, and it took six hours' travel. 

She tried to sleep, but found it eluded her. She stared at the upholstery of the seat in front of her, and wondered if Luke had found sleep yet. For some reason- maybe it was Mon Mothma and all she associated with her: the Rebellion, her father- she kept going back to her failure of the mission. The questions Darth Vader asked her under interrogation. Tarkin's elegant manners and shiny fingernails. Vader's fingers on her shoulders, which took some of the pain away from what was happening to Alderaan because he squeezed so hard. 

She rubbed her collarbone with the tip of her own finger, and thought there was still some sensation of bruise. What was it? Nine days with Han, two- was it two on Yavin?- And how long to there from the Death Star. Less than two weeks, she figured. 

His grip was like steel fingers. Vader hadn't expected the Death Star to be used, Leia guessed. Someday, yes; but not as a demonstration. Ben heard a million voices, Luke told her. Vader must have heard them, too. He squeezed her shoulders so he wouldn't faint. 

What kind of effect would that leave on a being? She hoped he still heard the voices. 

The secret location of the Minister had no name. "They are never named," someone answered when she asked. She had no idea what local time it was. It seemed the Minister of War's office didn't stop for day or night, but Mon had to sleep at some point. Leia had been taken to see her right away. 

Mon Mothma finally spoke again. "Are you all right," she said. "Is there anything I can do."

Mon's voice fell wearily, as if it was too hard to inflect a questioning tone, or if they were questions she knew Leia wouldn't be able to answer them.

Because there was no answer. Instead Leia returned it to Mon. "What is there to do?" and held up her two empty hands.

 _Yes, what could you do_ , Leia thought. Nothing that was real, or possible. Change the cast of characters? Put the weight of loss on someone else. Turn back time? How far back would you need to go? Tell the planet to never exist, so no one has to lose it.

It gave her a special strength, to realize this. It was her and Alderaan. She wouldn't want anyone else to go through this, so she began to settle into it. If that was what they were really talking about, she would tell Mon, "It is mine."

"But Leia," Mon had to know, "how did you come to miss the transport? We were all quite beside ourselves. I thought I had lost you all over again."

Leia peered at Mon. _Lost you all over again?_ "How could-"

"We just didn't know. You weren't there to tell us. We had to make up answers ourselves, and some we didn't like."

 _Get cold feet?_ was Han's guess, and she'd been standing right in front of him. 

The thought that she had made them fret, when no such intention had crossed her mind, had Leia feel some misgiving. But then, to be the topic of discussion, of their doubt and questions, when to her it was all so clear, disturbed her. "What do you mean?"

Mon spread her palms helplessly. "If you didn't show, we had to ask, why would you miss your transport? Why would you stay behind?"

"Why indeed," Leia wondered aloud sharply. "Really, Mon-"

"It seemed we couldn't separate the chaos of what happened earlier from your absence on a transport. Like it was all part of the same event. And the timing, with the ships all going different distances; we couldn't raise them while they were in transit, and the chaos continued. We just didn't know."

"What happened earlier?" Leia quoted, bristling. "You mean my arrest?" She was brisk. "They were days apart. There was a victory in between." Leia learned forward and said with bitter irony, "I won't say I'm sorry, Mon. But I didn't mean-"

Mon's eyes didn't blink. "A complete state of shock," she said, and Leia wondered who she was talking about. "You told the captain you fell asleep?"

Apparently, Han had repeated her bald-faced excuse to him in his briefing. The fact pleased her. "I arranged my own transportation," Leia said calmly.

"Why would he lie?" Mon wondered.

"Maybe I'm the one who lied," Leia said.

"Oh, Leia," Mon dismissed the idea, and Leia fell silent.

It wasn't just Time, Leia thought. It was Humans. And she thought anyone would forgive her right now for not liking them much. Humans, discounting words, coming from a princess because she wouldn't, coming from a smuggler because they expected it.

"Is he..."

"Mon," Leia chastised.

"All right," Mon Mothma relented, and took to staring at Leia with a mixture of pity and wonder. Leia listened to the sounds that hummed outside the office. Sounds of war. Not blasters or proton torpedoes or Darth Vader's loud respirator, but brisk, efficient noises.

"You'll be happy to know the Core Treaty Consortium has condemned astral bombs and laser technology," Mon continued, her fingers fidgeting with a stack of data files on her desk.

The CTC was formed eighty years ago, after the Inner Core Wars. In concept it was a neutral territory used to negotiate treaties, try crimes of war, and attempt to guide worlds on the proper way to wage war. It held itself separate from any government, so in this age of the Galactic Empire, it remained indissoluble from Palpatine.

"Happy isn't really the word, Mon," Leia said.

"No. I suppose it isn't. But somehow-" Mon broke off, frowning. "Something good must arise from this, or that we must find something. And in the light of what happened, that we as a species understand what is right, and what is really a sacrilege... at least we won't see technology like the Death Star put to use again."

 _In the light of this_... it was better than the way that general had put it. _Hopefully a wake up call_... Mon was always a good orator. But nothing good would ever come of it. Banning weapons was reactionary common sense; it shouldn't need to be done in the first place.

"Astral bombs," Leia murmured thoughtfully. "That's what Palpatine hit Corellia with."

"Twenty years ago." Mon was always precise. "One of his first acts as Emperor. You were just a baby. He explained to the galaxy Corellia earned his fury." Mon's eyes left Leia and circled around the things on the desk. "He promised us a secure society. Ended the Clone Wars, and then six months later bombed Corellia. 

"Did you ever wonder, Leia, if our modern technology makes it easier for us to kill. We are removed from the act itself. We push a button, and don't even have to watch the bomb fall."

"He promised himself his own society," Leia put in.

Mon agreed with a nod. "I doubt he bears any responsibility."

"No. The victims do."

"Yes. A deranged, sick man rises to power and we react in civil war." Mon's inner thoughts caused her eyes to widen. "In a way I'm surprised we haven't already won. I'm surprised he's still in power. That we only have a portion of the galaxy's support. How can- after this, after Alderaan- how can everyone not see him as we do?"

"For some, allegiance is a job. For others, it's in the heart. We won't reach those. And he has a navy."

"There have been defections. Some quite high ranking."

Leia lifted her head. "Can we trust them? I mean, are they defecting for the right reason?"

Mon Mothma let out one short note of her former laugh. "Vetting them is complex. As you say, when it's a matter of the heart... TRAD has offered their assistance."

"How?"

Mon waved a hand. "Even they say a psychoanalysis can be false, given proper training. But a glimpse into the character of a being might hint at a defector's motivations." She waved her hand again. "It can't hurt."

"I suppose not."

The women fell silent, each following separate trains of thought. Leia was thinking of Dr. Renzatl. Mon Mothma was still on the Emperor and his crimes, for when she resumed speaking, she said, "The bombs will be brought to the CTC storage facility once they are located." 

"Why aren't they there now?" Leia asked. "Why has it taken them twenty years to condemn them?"

"At the time, they rested on the reassurances of Palpatine and a signed Imperial pledge there were no more bombs in existence, and that there would be no more. Palpatine allowed inspections of weapons manufacturing plants. However, a recent investigation turned up half a dozen in the basement of a cultural resource center."

Leia's face screwed up in puzzled amazement. "What?"

Mon was nodding at her. "Exactly what I said."

Leia shook her head. "He'll continue to lie. And anyway it won't do much good. The knowledge will always be there," she said. "For laser technology too. We've witnessed it; it's burned in our collective experience. Who is to say someone won't resurrect the technology at a later time?"

"Palpatine is charged with war crimes. Of course, they aren't going to get their hands on him. If we win, my aim would be to use that collective experience, rebuild our values so that we- not just as a people, but as a galaxy- cannot even entertain the thought of using such weapons."

"A societal taboo," Leia murmured. Her thoughts drifted to Luke. Palpatine had been successful in building the attitude that the Jedi were greedy, power hungry predators, so that when he came to power no one objected to the Order's annhilation. Luke was in danger, she realized. Not just while war waged, but afterwards.

"War has changed," Mon Mothma said. "Leaders no longer rely on an army to win. They hit the populace until life becomes unbearable, or worse, and it's the civilians who are forced to surrender."

Leia remained silent and waited. She knew Mon fairly well and of course shared similar political views. Mon was building a pitch. She had alluded to as much in the holomessage.

"Refugees are beginning to reach out," Mon told her. "They need our help. I won't let them surrender."

Leia nodded, thinking of the term surrender. There was no more Alderaan. It was a condition the refugees were forced to accept, herself included, and that was a surrender. So Mon was wrong but Leia said nothing.

"I have to remember that you, too, are a refugee," Mon said, looking at Leia with brimming eyes. She looked for so long it was becoming a stare, and Leia squirmed uncomfortably.

Mon shook herself. "We have a territory," she continued. "It was scouted previously as a possible base. The CTC said they would send a peace guard to protect it, should the Empire decide it must be part of the war.

"It's nothing like Alderaan; nothing would be," she said. "But it should be safe. And it's a place for the refugees to feel safe. Dr. Renzatl- you've met her-"

Leia nodded, feeling uncooperative. "TRAD."

"Yes. She will have an office there, and a staff."

"Do we know how many?" Leia asked. 

"Three coun-"

"Not staff. Alderaani."

"No." Mon shook her head. "Not at this time. We are asking for Alderaani embassies on every world system to offer asylum."

This course of action was obvious, and Leia nodded. "Some won't come," she said.

"Yes, it's possible," Mon allowed. "I'm most concerned for those living in Imperial City on Coruscant."

Leia was surprised at herself for not thinking the same. Really, gathering refugees was not unlike looking out at the Graveyard, and why hadn't she been consumed with that idea? Instead she had bought candles. 

"It's a moon's moon," Mon was going on. "As I said earlier, it had been scouted. The Alliance rejected it as a possible base. It is too wet, apparently."

"Too wet how?"

"I haven't been there," Mon said briskly. "I've been assured it will work as a territory of residence for a small population. The Alliance- well, everyone is entirely unprepared for something like this. When Corellia was bombed, and then the siege of Po'oppero-  unfortunately just two examples- those world governments handled the displacement crises themselves. The Alderaani have no one to turn to. Not Aldera, and not Coruscant, for it turned on them."

Leia thought of those like her. In her mind, they beseeched her, palms out, the same as the Alderaani couple who asked Leia to help locate their son. Would they understand why she went to Datooine instead of the new base? Would they make up answers as Mon Mothma had? 

 _S_ _he's not answering her comm because_ \- and it hit her. Her father was dead.

All the little thoughts swirling about him went away and she reeled a bit. Mon was watching her. "They still have a Princess," Leia struggled softly. "The refugees."

"Yes," Mon beamed. "I was hoping you'd say that. Your father- in fact, Alderaan-"

"Yes," Leia interrupted. Her voice suddenly sharpened. She would not allow Mon Mothma to describe her homeworld. Not when she was present to do it. "Alderaan had a Recovery Corp. We sent food, supplies and equipment to areas stricken by natural disaster or war. We allowed for refugees to enter, for shelter. They could even become citizens."

Mon's voice was hushed and thick with tears. "The Recovery Corp was noble. Your mother," she managed to get out, "such an example of grace and generosity. She'd be so worried for you. I'd like you to take up the mantle" she gently hinted. "Be the beacon of hope."

"On this moon within a moon?" Leia didn't mean to sound skeptical. She was reacting to Mon's praise of her mother, who was dead. It was easy to gloss over one's qualities when they were no longer alive, wasn't it. Was her mother, once a good friend to Mon Mothma, now a saint? A caricature of all she used to be?

 _Take up the mantle..._  Mon didn't think Leia was up to her mother's standards, did she, Leia thought. And not because she was a princess and not the queen. Because she hadn't boarded the correct transport.

"But Leia." Mon hesitated, choosing her words carefully. She folded her hands together, except for the forefingers, and she tapped the tips four times. "I know you are their Princess. You must bear their loss, too. That is a difficult burden, coupled with your own. Add to that what happened to you on the Death Star, and recently..."

Mon Mothma paused and Leia was irritated she wouldn't let the matter of being overdue drop. "I'd like you- I want to make sure you take part in the services you arrange for your people. It is our policy, but embrace it on your own. Make use of TRAD. Dr. Renzatl has seen you once. We were talking, when we didn't know where you were-"

Leia felt her cheeks flush. "I saw her for thirty minutes."

"Yes, she told me."

 _Told you?_ Leia wondered. What was that supposed to mean?

"I hear it in your voice, Leia. You'll tell me a leader holds herself above, must be strong; you'll quote me the Senate oath, won't you?" Mon was looking at her with a curious sad smile. 

"It's true."

"It is. Yes. But it is also true that you are more than a Princess. You are a young woman who has suffered an unbelievable loss."

"So has everyone else."

"And they will be part of TRAD."

"I hear what you're saying, Mon. But, I'm- I'm- I'll be able to handle this. The transport: I asked Captain Solo to take me where I could obtain candles for the Month of Flame. That wasn't one of the answers to the questions you asked yourselves, was it? You should have asked, is the Princess arranging to mark the loss-"

"You could have told us, Leia. You could have suggested it to us. You could have informed us you were going. Instead-"

"It was for the refugees," Leia mumbled, her voice small. "We brought back almost ten full cases-"

"I can order you if I have to, Leia. I don't want to. But now that you've told me about the purchase, I'll be sure the cases are loaded off that freighter and brought to the moon."

Leia's upper lip sucked into her teeth. "Or you could just have that freighter bring them."

"Yes." Mon looked at Leia sharply. "Where did it come from, that freighter? You seem very attached to it."

"What do you mean?" Leia asked, flinching. "The ship?-"

"It just appeared at the Death Star," Mon Mothma wondered. "It all seems so unreal," she continued, her voice mostly a whisper. "Your capture. I called your father, you know."

Leia's eyes dropped. "I knew he was told. Not that it was you."

"And we were set, to grieve. To have it in our minds that you were gone. I was preparing to go to Alderaan." Mon nodded at Leia's amazed expression. "Yes. Sneak out of hiding for you. For Bail. I was enroute when..."

Leia wondered if Mon Mothma had experienced what the  _Millennium Falcon_ had. "Were you close?"

Mon shook her head. "No. We always make at least four evasive hyper jumps to be sure we're not followed. And then General Dodonna hailed me, with this rapid fire story. Your surprise appearance at Yavin, with the plans no less, and the battle set to go. But your rescue! Out of the blue!"

"Yes," Leia looked at her own hands folded in her lap. "For me, too."

"To hear of some random ship... It was like divine intervention."

Leia remembered again,  _You came in that?_ and then applied the idea of divine intervention, which gave her a private smile. 

Mon paused, gathering her thoughts. "Is it true you contacted General Kenobi? The Jedi Knight?"

Leia nodded again. She exhaled deeply, feeling a tension leave her at the change in subject. At least she wouldn't be asked to explain herself anymore.

"And you said in the briefing your father had told you his location. How- how did Bail know?"

"I don't know."

"I was on Coruscant when the Republic fell. I was in the Senate chambers when Palpatine declared himself Emperor. What he said about the Jedi... I was unaware any survived."

Evidently Mon was bothered by the detail of a hidden Jedi, which gave Leia a mote of satisfaction. 

"My father often told me of the Fall," Leia said. "He said he had gone to the Jedi Temple, before Palpatine's speech, to see if he could help. And he was threatened by clone troopers. Maybe he met some there."

Mon shook her head. "I doubt it. Darth Vader led the attack himself. Even for the Jedi, they were completely overwhelmed."

"Did you know him?"

"Darth Vader? No. No one seems to know much about him. Palpatine recruited... well, I don't know what to call them. One day Darth Vader was there, introduced as his second in command. It's interesting, because no one can place Vader at the temple, but all say he was there. You would think his appearance would be memorable." Mon shuddered. "That awful helmet."

"It's a respirator," Leia informed her, empowered by her first hand knowledge of Vader. "But I meant if you knew General Kenobi."

"Oh." Mon was pulled from the past. "I may have met him. The Jedi worked closely with the Senate but generally not socially. And during the Clone Wars, they were very taxed."

"Was he..." Leia shook her head rapidly, trying to come up with the proper description. "... special? That he could do all that? Survive, and flee, and know my father?"

"He was a Jedi," Mon said, smiling at Leia's words. "But I don't know that he was any more special than another Jedi. If I recall, his partner was Anakin Skywalker."

Luke's father, Leia thought to herself. "He had his partner's lightsaber with him on Tatooine," she told Mon. "He gave it to Luke."

"I understood that from the young man's briefing," Mon said. "He was in training?"

"Oddly, no," Leia said. "Luke said he knew of him all his life. General Kenobi must have fled to Tatooine after the Fall. But he never mentioned anything to Luke about the Force or training him until Luke brought him my call for help."

"That is odd."

"I think my father must have known all that time where he was."

"When did he share the general's contact info with you?"

"Only a couple of years ago," Leia answered. "When I started passing information."

"It is curious," Mon said. "I wonder what he did on Tatooine for all those years. He didn't... assist Bail? In any way?

"Not that I know of."

"And to have the company of smugglers to call on at the ready..."

"No," Leia disagreed. "The ship _is_  divine intervention. I like how you put that. Maybe intervention of the Force. Luke said they went to port to charter a ship. I don't believe he had made Captain Solo's acquaintance previously."

"Hm." Mon's fingertips were tapping her desk now. "I'd like to know how many others escaped the Fall."

"It's likely more than one survived," Leia agreed.

"If we could somehow reach them," Mon daydreamed. "A Jedi presence would be of great value to the Alliance."

"Yes," Leia said. It would help Luke, she added to herself.

Mon seemed to shake herself. "Well, obviously Bail did make arrangements with at least one. He never told me though..." her voice trailed off. "I wonder why."

"Probably for the Jedi's protection," Leia reasoned. "The more that knew, the more at risk of discovery."

"Yes, but in that regard I was the same as your father," Mon insisted. "I would never reveal-"

"You would if you came under arrest," Leia said. 

"Did you? You were arrested."

"They didn't question me about that. They were focused on the plans."

"You didn't reveal that, either, Leia," Mon said softly, looking grieved. She shook her head. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. Interrogation."

"I'm not," Leia said, and it was true. "We knew of the risks."

"Yes. Yes, we did. And your father did, too. His reaction, Leia, when I told him, was for you. Not for the mission."

"He didn't want me to do it," Leia said softly.

"I know he didn't," Mon's tone was tender. "Dr. Renzatl asked me to share this with you-"

 _No one retires from this._ "I don't want the details."

"But you'll want his love."

Leia had to look at the corner of the desk. Her jaw was clenched and she was trying to be angry with Mon Mothma for not being the target of the laser, for being alive when her father wasn't. She started bouncing her knee rapidly, remembering her father's boot and cuff the little stuffed toy made a playground of, Mon Mothma ducking down to see, the tails of her headscarf dangling. 

Her father wanted her to be safe. He accepted that opposing Palpatine might kill him, but he couldn't bear the same for his own daughter. 

This was notable, somehow. Leia blocked Mon Mothma's voice out. It was about futures, she decided. Hers, and the galaxy's. Alderaan's. But her father was mixed up. He was separating love and fear from justice and right, and that was a mistake.

She wouldn't do the same. 

There was a touch at her elbow, and Leia gave a start. She hadn't heard the conversation come to a close. She hadn't noticed Mon Mothma rise, or come to the other side of the desk and touch her elbow. 

"I won't keep you," Mon was saying. A crumpled tissue peeked from the gaps of her loose fist. Her expression was odd, like all she wanted to do was keep Leia.

"If there is anything, Leia- I know there isn't, but if there is," Mon Mothma broke off before trying again. "I'm here, Leia. I feel like it's not enough, but also that it's all I have."

"We have the war," Leia said softly, rising.

"And isn't that a terrible thing."

It was a platitude, Leia decided, a conclusion to their conversation, but it made her curious. "Are you sorry for it? You and my father worked for so long."

Mon's voice came behind Leia as she escorted her to the door. "I am more convinced than ever the Empire needs to end. I am... gratified, I suppose is the word, that everything regarding the formation of the Alliance has fallen into place. I am sorry for... for the way the war has been waged." Mon rested her hand on the door jamb. "I am not sure, however, that a victory will ease the pain."

Half-heartedly, because she didn't think it was possible, and she needed a conclusion so she could leave, Leia said, "We'll ask ourselves when we have it."

"Yes." Mon Mothma wasn't ready to consider it yet. "Dr. Renzatl is expecting you, Leia. Please go see her."

 

 

 

 


	26. Aspects, II

Leia was given directions how to get from Mon Mothma's office to Dr. Renzatl's.

The polite major had started out in specific detail. "From here, go down- I believe it's eight doorways, turn right at that corridor, to the end, then left. You'll see the tubes. The center one is for even-numbered floors; don't ask me why they designed it that way. Take it to the second." Then the major got fuzzier in detail. "You should find her there."

Should, and there- it was vague, as if the doctor was an unknown entity, haphazardly occupying space. Mon Mothma's office occupied the entire fourth floor. Perhaps TRAD held the second. Leia asked.

The major, still polite, had returned to his task. He shook his head. "TRAD's not here, Your Highness. We don't us the second floor much."

"Oh," Leia said, still confused. She waited a bit, to see if Mon had ordered someone to escort her, or if someone would volunteer to do so. Everyone remained busy with something so she left. Out in the corridor, which must be sound-proofed, as all office noises suddenly cut off, Leia thought she was being neglected. She had an impulse to go back in.

She wanted to test them. "Doesn't anyone realize the last time you told me to go somewhere I didn't?" But she stayed outside the door, in the quiet. Already she'd forgotten what the major had said. And he must not be good at giving directions. There was a mention of doors, and they stretched ahead of Leia like tiny city blocks, but also behind her, their flow interrupted by perpendicular corridors. It must look like a grid, Leia thought, from a bird's eye view. Doors were behind and ahead of her.

"From here," the polite major said where to start. Leia should go back in. Left or right, she needed to know. Something like that, a choice; it could be important, like a moment of destiny. To take up arms or not. To name Dantooine or somewhere else.

Now that she thought of it, just what god's idea of funny was this, for the fourth floor had the eerie layout and efficiency of the Death Star.

She wished she did have an escort. Not the polite major. Even Darth Vader had provided an escort of himself and two prison guards when he made her leave her cell. She figured they were taking her to her execution. The escort was probably for security purposes, but Leia remembered feeling sort of... satisfied, that they flanked her; that, in with the resignation and pride and even willingness to die as punishment, she wouldn't be alone.

That was important, Leia thought as she turned left- that was the way out of the cell block on the Death Star- and started counting doors. If a god of irony had decided to play with one's mortal life, it was best to have someone alongside.

Luke, she thought. She would like him along. They could discuss whether a god of irony was actually the Force while they wound their way through the corridors together as they had on the Death Star.

The Force, he would say, though the only evidence he had was in his own body; he'd only just learned of it from General Kenobi. Leia grew up with the concept of gods. The mythology of Alderaan was full of them; the number of maidens was in direct relation to the number of goddesses who created the planet. Alderaani often said, "May the Force be with you," but it was viewed as a galaxy-wide phenomenon.

At that, he hadn't escorted her from the cell, Leia suddenly remembered. He had freed her, true, but when he mentioned General Kenobi she had dashed past him. He'd wanted to take the lead, still talking. "Come on!" he'd urged, but she was already out the door.

By herself, she had turned left and run. Behind her was a dead end, and ahead was smoke and noise from a firefight. A helmetless stormtrooper was returning fire. It was a jarring sight, she remembered.

"Can't get out that way," the man in trooper armor directed his speech to Luke as he caught up to Leia. It turned out to be her first meeting with Han.

Too bad he couldn't escort her, but he turned out to be just as bad at Luke at rescuing Princesses. They would probably argue about the number of doors the polite major recited. "Eight down the corridor," Leia would say. Han would shake his head, maybe even shoot at one to express his frustration. "On each side of the corridor. Four."

He'd brought her to the Graveyard, at least. But that didn't qualify as escort. He was a pilot. Somehow that meant the route was only the pilot's; the destination was the passenger's. Han's ship was merely the way to get there. Leia knew what Luke would say. "It's still the Force."

She missed the Graveyard. She missed its stillness and infinity. She missed knowing and being known.

Vader's escort brought her to the bridge of the Death Star, where Grand Moff Tarkin was waiting to speak with her. Vader hadn't said a word to her. The god of irony- and truth, she supposed- had turned mean. All the while, the god knew, but he toyed with her; what a fool the god made her look in front of Tarkin. She was regal and tart and everything was so clear to her.

Except what was about to happen.

"You're far too trusting," Tarkin had told her.

She was. There was a transparisteel window, much larger than the one in the cockpit of the _Falcon_ but she told herself not to look. There was a crew, machinery, Vader still breathing behind her, but she didn't see, she didn't listen. Tarkin's threat was real; that's why the Rebels had stolen the plans. In the hands of madmen...

Even when she named Dantooine, she didn't think he would. It was a war game. Why- Why destroy a place that lived? Why make one's Empire smaller? He wouldn't use the Death Star on Dantooine. They would search, as the Empire always did, and maybe in angry retaliation find a lifeless moon and show the galaxy how merciful the Empire was if the galaxy toed the line...

 _You're far too trusting_. Darth Vader's breathing was a slow motion pant. His steely fingers pressed into her so hard and she missed the pain, because it was soothing. Even if it was the million voices, his grip was a warning, or a consolation, and she had to stop in the middle of the corridor because she hadn't sensed the truth of this yet: It was him and her, Tarkin over there. He kept her from moving, and they watched, together.

Leia shook her head once hard, dismissing the vocalized thought. He should have killed Tarkin. He should have let her go so she could try.

Her hands were fists and she resumed walking. It was eight doors; she'd remembered correctly. The lift tube yawned empty before her, but Leia reared away from it.

Stairs. She preferred stairs. She would go on her own. Her direction. She would not leave her fate inside some tube to take her up or down, to cede her own ability-

Surprised at herself, at the flutters of her heart, of any small sympathy toward Darth Vader, Leia made herself peer in. Would she ride it if someone else was with her? She'd done well against Vader, she told herself, and that was true, too. He was powerful in rank, powerful with the Force, and his mission failed worse than hers.

Her eyes went to the ceiling. If only he'd been on the Death Star...

Gods, it made her sick. At its core, the Rebellion was about disapproval, and more. Seeing a wrong and trying to right it. Her actions had resulted in the Empire becoming smaller...

If it could just be one thing, not both. A tragedy or a triumph. A victory and not a loss.

For _him_ to realize it, Tarkin. For him to... to celebrate her weakness, to broadcast it, so that Mon could no longer trust her with responsibility-

It always came back to that moment. It was her portrait.

She backed off from the tube again, and looked around to locate a doorway at the end of a hallway. Her mind followed its own path, free flowing so it felt safe. Entropy, Leia thought.

She did have a number of portraits done, Leia knew. Most of them were blown to smithereens. She was seated or standing, and she wore the junior crown and her mother's necklace. Next to her on a table would be the Cloth of Origin, the original text of Alderaan's mythology, so old; a gavel; and a medallion showing the insignia of the Old Republic. The objects were supposed to represent Leia's office and character. Just, reasoned, royal.

The last Princess of Alderaan needed a new one, Leia thought bitterly. No crown, no jewelry. Only her Death Star gown. On the table the medallion would be turned over, Palpatine's face on the reverse, a small pile of ashes. The gavel would be the only thing to remain the same. The artist could add flares of light in the window behind her.

It was a sideways shift, to put all her conflicts in the tube. She was now terrified of small spaces, but her head felt a little clearer. Earlier, she had wanted to re-enter Mon's office and- like hyperspace, words came at her and dissolved in might. After their conversation, Leia had felt a pity and disappointment. The pity angered her but the disappointment might have been hers. Or it was passed back and forth, like sharing a flask.

"Yes, Leia?" She imagined how Mon would look up from her data tablet if Leia reappeared. "What is it?"

And Leia's mouth would open, ready to accuse, to whine, words like medscan and wake up call, and Mon would only hear a scream.

Leia was radioactive, disintegrating in sequences of a half-life. It was toxic and exhausting, and an ennui was settling in, the kind where a being recognizes the hole they have dug for themselves but don't quite know how to pull themselves out. Viewing the Graveyard was a step. Being able to leave it was another. It was hers but she didn't belong. That's what it had taught her. She wasn't dead. Her father was, but she wasn't. When she eventually found Dr. Renzatl's office, she could helpfully declare, "I've got an aspect now!"

 _I gave you a hero who couldn't rescue you. I gave you a home you had to destroy. I took the life of the villain you wanted to kill the most,_ the god of irony and truth informed her.

A hero who couldn't rescue her? Leia considered as she went down a flight of stairs. But Luke did, she answered the god. So what if he needed her help. The other two statements she wasn't ready to argue yet, but- rest assured, she told the god- she would. She was a princess, and she had once been very good at it.

A nondescript door was at the end of a landing. It was manual, in case of emergency, and Leia opened it and stepped out onto the second floor. It was the same as the fourth, lots of doors and hallways, only this level was painted green. The polite major was correct; the Office of the Minister of War didn't seem to use it much. The doors had plastic slots to attach a temporary name. War rooms, Leia thought. She started along the perimeter, looking for one labeled recovery.

She didn't bring the memory of Luke or Han to accompany her. Looking back, she was charmed by them; they were so surprised and dismayed at their own trouble. Darth Vader hadn't bothered with them; they were amateurs. _She_ had posed the real challenge, and she brought Vader along, because he'd been there when Alderaan blew, his fingers hard and understanding.


	27. Obversations, VII

It was light acts of routine- sweeping the sonic over her teeth, for instance- that found Albrina Renzatl thinking of Princess Leia.

She would stand in front of the reflector, listening to the buzz of the cleaner, and think _the Princess didn't pack a sonic._

At least, not that Albrina knew. 

It was a crooked parallel, a stowaway Princess and a stranded doctor. 

Albrina had been lied to before; that was not unusual. Often her clients didn't even realize they were lying to themselves, so she didn't mind. But this level of deception, if that's what this was...

"Deliberate," is how she described the Princess to the Minister. 

And she cast her memory back to Yavin's hangar, when she had turned at the sound of her name to see the young Princess holding out her hand, a polite and tentative smile on her face. 

"We should meet before we leave, don't you think?" the Princess had said. 

Albrina had enjoyed their discussion. Right now she felt a little used, but the Princess's active questions about the effect of war on lasting mental health made the doctor feel- well, engaged was the only word for it. She didn't recall the exact conversation, but the doctor had received the distinct impression they were not supposed to be traveling together. 

She was mistaken. Deliberate, indeed. 

And so Albrina arrived and the Princess did not. The doctor's delayed voyage to the moon of Buteral was explained on the second day, when the Minister of War informed her Princess Leia was missing. 

The Minister, a busy woman, was worried enough that she took the time to update Dr. Renzatl daily. Albrina's comm would ding late at night, and she would wake to read a text from Mon Mothma, _no new information,_ and she would think about the Minister waiting, hoping until the day gave out, and then waking to hope some more. 

It wasn't a matter of obtaining information about the Princess. When they had it on that freighter, that's when they would learn what happened to her. Or more likely, what the Princess had engineered. Albrina repeated this to the Minister several times.

When the Minister sent a text that the freighter had reached Shino-ak and the Princess was safe, Dr. Renzatl taped her name to the door of an unused conference room on the second floor, had some equipment brought in, and waited. 

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Follow-up after CBA (as yet incomplete) Patient 20236

Princess Leia did not evacuate according to plan at Yavin. She boarded not her ordered transport, but the same freighter that whisked her away from the Death Star. Nine days later she has finally arrived, after numerous unanswered attempts to contact her. General Dodonna terms it as a failure to obey orders and goes even so far as to suggest she was absent without leave. The Minister of War wishes to be apprised of Princess Leia's capacity to assume duty.

So many have involved themselves in her case. It wouldn't surprise me if Luke Skywalker, at whatever base he is stationed, had somehow heard she was missing. 

It is not my job to interpret her disappearance, or to explain it to those interested. Of course she is the one who made the decision to leave, yet I recognize that the Alliance may be a contributing factor. The captain of the freighter is an outsider. Perhaps it is more fair to say he is not enlisted. What this means for the Princess is that, once his deliveries are finished, he will eventually leave. If Princess Leia has placed her trust with him we need to help her develop it elsewhere. 

I stood when she entered the conference room. I had arranged for water and kaf to be brought in and offered her some. She selected water. I said nothing in observance that she still wore her Death Star gown. Its only significance may be in that she has nothing else to wear, as her uniforms were sent ahead to the refugee moon. 

I thought she looked tired, a little cross. She mentioned that Mon Mothma had sent her to see me and asked if this was General Dodonna's  disciplinary review. 

It was bitter humor, but I pretended to take it literally. I shook my head. "TRAD has nothing at all to do with violations or evaluations. With all this concern you must feel as if you are being pulled in different directions," I said.

She shrugged. "They want to win the war. So do I." In her voice I detected something, resentment and disappointment. "But I'm not some ghost, returned from the dead. I'm not some little girl who can't follow directions."

"So you feel they are misinformed about you." I sat, and gestured for the Princess to do the same. 

She only rested a hand on the back of her chair. "Mon Mothma told me she spoke to you about me." This time I heard a note of accusation and mistrust. 

"She did," I admitted. "She was worried. I'm afraid I did little to allay her fears."

"She's your superior," Princess Leia said.

I nodded. "She's everyone's," I smiled at her. "Even if I knew what was on her mind or General Dodonna's, it would remain completely separate from anything you might tell me has been on your mind, Your Highness."

It was in my notes that I had already covered the purpose of TRAD, its mission statement, and the importance of safeguarding a client's privacy with her, but I took the time to go over it again. "My role is that of a guide," I reminded Princess Leia. "But I am with you every step of the way."

I cocked my head at my own words. Actually my role is even more passive than that of a guide. I was glad to have experienced Yavin, for the suck sand describes it best. My role is to stand in safety, on dry soil. I can tell the being trapped within that a vine is available to pull themselves out, but I cannot offer it. I must watch them struggle to find it.

Sometimes they lose the battle.

"We are recovery," I assured the Princess gently. "When there is a physical injury, medics have scans, don't they? Rehabilitation and medicine help the return to normal. Our method is similar, except the wound is more fluid. We see where pain is taken in, and we help to let it out."

"It sounds... like breathing." Princess Leia said. She was, at last, intellectually intrigued. She finally took a seat. "It reminds me of how I've heard the Force described."

I smiled. "Interesting you should say that. Pain is- or was, since the Jedi are no more- once thought to be a physical sensation of the Force. Many beings traveled to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to receive treatments from the Jedi healers.

"But that is no more," I stopped myself from going on a tangent. "Pain is real. In my work, we don't mask it, and we can't make it go away entirely, but we can... settle it, arrange it in you, so you can live with it."

"I didn't have a medscan," the Princess mentioned unexpectedly. "When I returned. Captain Solo wanted to use one to see if I was injured. I suppose he was the only one who thought it necessary. I'd undergone- Darth Vader-" The thumbs of her hands rubbed together. "I was interrogated. And yet-"

"That was overlooked," I said frankly. I made a note on my tablet. "I will address that. That was wrong."

The Princess let her back rest against the chair. 

"I did want to see you," I said, alluding to the Minister sending her to me. "For you are supposed to see me. It's been nine days since we started the CBA, and we haven't finished."

"I know," the Princess said.

I rested the tablet on my lap and crossed my legs, ready to work. "Nine days," I repeated. "And a lot has happened. There's been much talk about you. You look tired. Are you alright?"

Transcript follows:

Princess Leia: I suppose you want an explanation as to why I didn't evacuate with my assigned transport.

Dr. Renzatl: This is not at all about what I want. Do you want to talk about it?

Princess Leia: No. (Lifts hand, drops it.) I mean- no. But I feel it has cost me something.

Dr. Renzatl: What has it cost you?

Princess Leia: (shakes head imperceptibly.)

(Several minutes pass in silence.)

Dr. Renzatl: May I ask you something, Your Highness? (Waits for Princess Leia to nod). When you introduced yourself to me in the hangar the day of the evacuation, did you already know you were going to miss your transport?

Princess Leia: (looks down at clasped hands). Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: And... the captain- (scrolls through notes to find his name.)

Princess Leia: Han Solo.

Dr. Renzatl: Yes, Captain Solo. Did he know you were going to leave on his ship? Or the Wookiee?

Princess Leia: No.

Dr. Renzatl: There was a search for you, are you aware?

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: And numerous attempts were made to contact you.

Princess Leia: I know. (Another long silence.) You're trying to show I cost something.

Dr. Renzatl: I'm on your side, Princess Leia. I see someone in pain, who was wise enough to take steps to try and let it out.

Princess Leia: Is that what I did? It was-? It didn't feel like pain.

Dr. Renzatl: What did it feel like?

Princess Leia: It felt... like the only thing I could do. And after a while, it felt right. I did things. I learned things, more than I thought. It was calm. So much so, that the reaction after I arrived felt like everyone was running around frantically with their hands up in the air, crying "the Princess is missing!"

Dr. Renzatl: (Smiles.) It did cause a bit of an uproar.

Princess Leia: Captain Solo was right. He said it would raise a- he called it a 'stink'.

Dr. Renzatl: Was he upset with you? Or the trouble you caused him?

Princess Leia: Trouble is interesting to him. He likes to watch it and smirk. I think he wanted to do it. And he's outside the Alliance, so it really wasn't trouble to him.

Dr. Renzatl: This perception you sense from the others, little girl or ghost- you don't feel that from him?

Princess Leia: No. We wouldn't be friends, would we, in any other situation, so our relationship is very much in the moment. It's stripped, of titles and labels. It's...

Dr. Renzatl: What?

Princess Leia: I was going to say that even though he- and Chewie and Luke, too- know me from the Death Star, because of the Death Star, they are the only ones who don't define me by it.

Dr. Renzatl: Is that how you feel? That you are defined by the Death Star?

Princess Leia: It changed everything, didn't it.

Dr. Renzatl: I suppose it did. (Watches Princess Leia lapse into thought.) What are you thinking about?

Princess Leia: When we parted, Han told me to keep being a princess.

Dr. Renzatl: A positive affirmation. What do you think he meant by that?

Princess Leia: He can't have any idea, can he? Socially, we are wolds apart. I didn't tell him how many spacecraft my family owned. Or that I had twelve maidens on Alderaan attending me-

Dr. Renzatl: Twelve?

Princess Leia: I know he assumes I was wealthy. On the Death Star, that's what I got from him. Being a royal meant feeling entitled and wealthy. Luke promised him some of my private wealth as a reward for rescuing me.

Dr. Renzatl: But he wasn't saying, 'stay wealthy'.

Princess Leia: (smiles.) No. He wasn't. And I can't, because everything is gone.

Dr. Renzatl: He was saying...

Princess Leia: I worked hard, as a princess.

Dr. Renzatl: You must have. Twelve maidens!

Princess Leia: Yes. Hours of meetings, and training. Traveling, discussion. Contact.

Dr. Renzatl: And politics.

Princess Leia: (nods.) The Rebellion.

Dr. Renzatl: He was encouraging you to keep working hard?

Princess Leia: (softly.) To fight. Keep learning. Honor my principles.

Dr. Renzatl: You changed him.

Princess Leia: (head snaps up.) Did I?

Dr. Renzatl: He went from equating royalty with wealth, no other benefit that he could see, to respecting you.

Princess Leia: I suppose.

Dr. Renzatl: A change resultant from the Death Star. Not really a new definition of you, though, is it.

Princess Leia: How do you mean?

Dr. Renzatl: You were a princess and senator before the Death Star. A very accomplished woman.

Princess Leia: I was. I was that way on the Death Star too, but...

Dr. Renzatl: What?

Princess Leia: I don't really know. I _was_ that way. I don't think many would have been able to accomplish what I did on the Death Star.

Dr. Renzatl: You mean the interrogation and torture. When you look back on it, does anything strike you? You have told me before you are proud of how you conducted yourself then. 

Princess Leia: Yes. That was all Darth Vader. 

Dr. Renzatl: But something changed. (Waits.) Let's go back to the beginning, when you said you felt like this had cost you something. I want to see if we can identify what that is, and if it occurred earlier than your abrupt decision to leave- was it abrupt?

Princess Leia: Fairly. When Luke came up to me in the hangar to say goodbye. I can't say I was thinking about it. I don't think I was, but ... It just came on me.

Dr. Renzatl: Ah, saying goodbye. 

Princess Leia: (with brows knit.) I can't see that I would- that-

Dr. Renzatl: Saying goodbye to the only ones who don't define you by the Death Star. (Princess Leia remains silent). A place where you were self-assured, competent, and efficient. A place that changed everything. 

Princess Leia: (uncomfortably) Obviously I haven't thought this through-

Dr. Renzatl: It's fine. These are feelings.They often seem like they clash with each other. Or maybe even don't make sense. 

Princess Leia: I'd like some kaf.

Dr. Renzatl: Please, help yourself. (Waits while Princess Leia pours and resumes her seat.) I know you are uncomfortable, Your Highness. You are just beginning. If you open yourself up to your feelings, you'll find they can't defeat you.

Princess Leia: It sounds like the Force again.

Dr. Renzatl: Perhaps it is. How do you perceive the Alliance defines you?

Princess Leia: (that imperceptible head shake again.) As... I don't know. If I say a failure, I know that's not true. I think it, and I deny it immediately, and I think it again. I brought the plans, we blew up the Death Star. Mon wants me to take on the leadership for the Alderaani, so she thinks I can do it, but also she... she thinks I killed my father. 

Dr. Renzatl: Has she said that?

Princess Leia: No. 

Dr. Renzatl: Has she made any indication that-

Princess Leia: (Impatiently) I was on the Death Star and the Death Star destroyed Alderaan and my father was there. 

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Princess Leia values reason, and she retreats behind it when confronted with powerful emotions. She is also self-reliant, and is unaccustomed to revealing any vulnerability in front of someone she doesn't trust. However, though she was a bit more forthcoming this session, her trust is an identifiable casualty of this trauma. She doesn't trust the Alliance to have the faith in her she feels she deserves, and while she resents that, she also somehow believes they are validated because she no longer can trust herself. 

The Princess was skittish and uncomfortable, and the way she dismisses real concern from others most likely stems from guilt. I decided to not push her too far this session, and veered off the topic of the Death Star. I brought up her upcoming station on Buteral.

Transcript continues

Dr. Renzatl: What are your hopes for the refugees?

Princess Leia: That I can be their Princess. That they will let me. That... it's meaningful. Healing. 

Dr. Renzatl: For you, too. 

Princess Leia: Yes. I don't know why- (presses lips together.) I understand how my experience on the Death Star could have lasting effects. 

Dr. Renzatl: Like what?

Princess Leia: I'm sure I don't need to tell you.

Dr. Renzatl: I'm interested in you, not what I know. 

Princess Leia: I wish my hair just turned white. So everyone would leave me alone and that would be that.

Dr. Renzatl: A physical manifestation.

Princess Leia: A statement. The white hair on a young person.

Dr. Renzatl: I think of old age.

Princess Leia: I think of sudden shock.

Dr. Renzatl: Do you?

Princess Leia: (Nods.) My father's grandfather supposedly had a serious fever. He was young, and overnight his hair turned white. From the fever. At least, that's the family legend. I only knew him when he was elderly, and his hair was a beautiful white. 

Dr. Renatl: So everyone would know by looking at you? That you had a sudden shock.

Princess Leia: And was changed forever. And then they would leave me alone. No speculation.

Dr. Renzatl: You don't like that. It goes back to being made to feel like they are dealing with a ghost, or the little girl who can't follow directions. (Princess Leia seethes.) You feel misunderstood.

Princess Leia: Almost disapproved of. That because of one thing- granted, a big thing- but one thing, and suddenly they can't trust my character. They look back and think they've never been able to.

Dr. Renzat: It's very isolating, isn't it? And painful to you. Yes, I used the word pain. I understand when you said going on the freighter was the only thing you could do. 

Princess Leia: (weakly funny) I'd rather be with Darth Vader. 

Dr. Renzatl: I'm curious about Captain Solo. Was it hard to involve him? To tell him what you needed, to ask for him to help you achieve it?

Princess Leia: I was apprehensive. I told him in steps. But only he could do it.

Dr. Renzatl: Why?

Princess Leia: Because he's not Alliance.

Dr. Renzatl: I know only what your friend Luke Skywalker has said of him. He was- I hope memory serves me- he was fond, or almost proud of the fact that Captain Solo is a smuggler and conman. 

Princess Leia: (smiles faintly). In any other situation Luke wouldn't be his friend, either. Han is an outlaw, it's true. But- I don't know. He smuggled us.

Dr. Renzatl: So where others may find disapproval, you find some good.

Princess Leia: Yes.

Dr. Renzatl: Was he smuggling you again?

Princess Leia: No. Not this time. But he was prepared to. He was worried, because of the ship's make and Imperial patrols, that we would be stopped based just on appearance- (stops). 

Dr. Renzatl: What are you realizing?

Princess Leia: The- the disapproval. 

Dr. Renzatl: Go on.

Princess Leia: Is that the only reason we are friends?

Dr. Renzatl: I don't think so. Your friendship with him and Luke stems from the Death Star. I think you're realizing that he's a bit like you. Misunderstood. 

Princess Leia: But that was an event. Years from now it might be the only thing we have in common.

Dr. Renzatl: An event where you all were tested. And learned about each other's character. Now you're building more common ground. Deepening the friendship. You're very fortunate to have that. I'm glad, in your moment of pain, he went along with you. What if he denied your request?

Princess Leia: I don't know. I suppose I could have held him at gunpoint. (Laughs weakly) I'm not serious. 

Dr. Renzatl: (raises brows.)

Princess Leia: I'm not. If he had the same attitude as the Alliance, and he dropped me off... But he didn't, so there's no sense trying to predict what I would have done.

Dr. Renzatl: Because he doesn't disapprove.

Princess Leia: He doesn't. 

Dr. Renzatl: The trip seems to have brought you a measure of peace.

Princess Leia: It was quiet. There was a lot of travel time. I did a lot of thinking. 

Dr. Renzatl: That's good.

Princess Leia: I tried to ready myself for what I'm to do next. 

Dr. Renzatl: What did you think about?

Princess Leia: The... odd circumstances of everything. Luke, General Kenobi. My father. 

Dr. Renzatl: You don't regret going.

Princess Leia: No. Not even with all this (waves hand)- coming back.

Dr. Renzatl: Are you concerned about a disciplinary review?

Princess Leia: I thought I was. I was more upset to hear about it; that they thought I merited one. But to hear you ask, specifically: No. What can they do to me? I'm not even ranked. 

Dr. Renzatl: (smiles.) Put a letter in your file?

Princess Leia: Right. 

Dr. Renzatl: And you feel the Minister has confidence in you to represent your people. 

Princess Leia: She asked me to. When I'm cleared for duty, may I have the rank of Princess?

Dr. Renzatl: I know you are joking, and yet a part of me feels you are serious. 

Princess Leia: I was joking, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth I meant them. 

Dr. Renzatl: How would a princess differ from, say, a general? Is it to keep yourself separate from the Alliance? Is it your white hair? 

Princess Leia: My white hair. (Smiles.) I like that. And for the autonomy. So I can board smuggling freighters whenever I want without repercussions. 

Dr. Renzatl: You don't trust the Alliance. Trust goes both ways.

Princess Leia: Then I suppose I don't.

 

Notes of Dr. Renzatl

Princess Leia and I will work together on Buteral. The Minister of War has appointed an Alderaani as general under whom my colleagues and I will operate TRAD. Princess Leia is head of Administration, and we will report to her. 

I told the Princess her point of contact would be Major Jaf Klander, as I wanted to avoid conflicts of interest as I continued to monitor her recovery. We agreed we would meet in the evenings once a week in my quarters.

She has great compassion, unscarred and grown larger by the tragedy, I think. Her sense of humor has been wounded but every once in a while I catch flares of how sharp it once was.

As with anyone who is compelled to fulfill someone else's idea, she is still reluctant and not enthusiastic to share; however, I feel she is beginning to recognize that keeping herself isolated is not in her own best interest. 

The Minister of War wants her cleared for duty and I have no reservations in recommending she begin her service with the Alliance. We shall see what Buteral brings us. I hope to see her in uniform, and I will continue to call her Princess. 

 

 

 


	28. Awakening

Was it the Force? Was it her father, and Obi Wan Kenobi, whose name she called upon when it was too late, that brought her here to Buteral?

An impossible place, and she would love it if it weren't for the fact she had to lose everything else to get here. 

There was never a place like it in all of Alderaan, and that made it perfect. Tall humps of rocky earth rose like spines out of the sea, like spikes of a half-buried creature. A rushing darkness came in with the tide, water and sky indiscernible because space above was starless, and that was also perfect. 

Low tide was ugly and exposed, but it was fascinating too, with its snails and crabs and the occasional fish stranded dead on the shoal, caught unaware.

It is fragile. A submoon; a moon's moon. The humps look like they've been here forever, and indeed it has been a long time, and the night tides keep count. The humps are covered with a mossy vine, a very pale green, but Leia could see fossil formations at the tide's mark from where she stood, and where the vines are auburn, crinkled and dead, she knew the tide was rising higher each time, lasting longer. It will happen one day, perhaps a very long time from now, but still it will happen, and Buteral's tide will not leave, the orbit will falter, and the mother moon will tear Buteral apart. 

It fits Leia. Somehow she is all of these things: a pale vine struggling in the brief sunlight, a careless fish caught in a pool, a resilient vision of chalky green rising from blackness. She is a survivor doomed; she is even the mother moon who destroys her own satellite. The tides spend a long time covering, and so does Leia, but in spite of that a smuggler finds her interesting and a farmboy can still admire her. 

Pilings were drilled; piers joined one another from hump to hump, and Leia worried about the impact on the moon as much as she did the arrival of refugees. 

She was their Princess. She was the mother moon. Even if time allowed for a billon generations of life, the ending was all that mattered.

 

 

 


	29. Awakening, II

First there was Time and Earth. That was how Alderaan started, the first two goddesses, but Leia could see them here on Buteral, too. The wildness, the... empty canvas. But it wasn't goddesses who arrived. It was humans.

Next to come was Form and Art. Leia sat on the bridge that connected the shoal to the nearest hump of tall risen earth. Thoughts of Alderaan: maidens, the refugees, generals and goddesses filled her mind, passed the time. There wasn't much to do yet; General Rieekan had given them the day off to rest and unpack after their arrival. Leia had little to unpack and she didn't rest. Instead she felt... followed. Or expanded. An awareness stayed with her, that god of irony and truth. It would be better if one of the goddesses had survived, a remnant of Alderaan, who had the power to restore. Leia wouldn't be afraid to face the refugees then. She had a sense of time, like that of a higher being, and all human struggle was paltry.

Birth and Discord were the next goddesses. There were twelve in total, and Leia had always wondered which ones were the most important. She decided now it was these two. Eventually the twelve goddesses gathered to dance, and Alderaan was sculpted. They all tended to her, filling her with their strengths and weaknesses, and like a mother they realized the time for sheltering had come to an end, and their creation must flourish on its own. So the goddesses made another daughter, and they gave her an earthly form, and she was the queen. The queen was tended by twelve maidens, to remind her of her origins.

Buteral was- not even a moon- a submoon; a strange, windy place. Mostly sea, with tall, narrow spikes of earth rising out of it. There was just a little bit of life, and yet the visiting humans had no trouble breathing or walking in its atmosphere. Buteral was... untended, Leia thought. There were no caretakers. It had no history. Until now.

It was a strange idea, to think of a place no one cared about; no god, no higher life form. Witnessing its crude state, seeing just what even a single goddess could make of such a place, gave Leia a sense of the span of the galaxy and her own bitter insignificance. There was no one to give this odd submoon a story, to say how it came to have a place in the galaxy, and yet Buteral didn't care. It was just here, and that was that. So different than Alderaan, with its complicated mythology and layered social structure.

Just who had failed whom, Leia wanted to know. The goddesses were the maidens of the planet, and the queen was the steward, and had her own, mortal maidens to keep her on the right path. There was no actual queen at the time of Alderaan's destruction. Leia was too young when her mother died, and her father, as Viceroy, became her steward until she came of age. Alderaan had a princess and not a queen, and Leia wondered if they had failed the goddesses. Or did it have something to do with her father? Was it his politics, or just that no god or man had ever had a role in the fate of Alderaan?

Carlist Rieekan was a shock. An Alderaani, the first she met since... And he was real, not starlight or whatever it was Leia pictured... It was the Graveyard, she realized. She had to tell herself the refugees were people. They were alive, and some would be coming here, like Carlist Rieekan, only not as generals. As themselves, businessmen or vacationers, and-

She felt her heart thump. Felt it, but the surroundings were too dark, too new; she was too busy taking it in to question why the thump was there; deep down she noted it but wouldn't let it surface. It was nerves, she told herself. Nerves, that didn't allow seeing a homeworlder fill her with relief or joy but more a dread.

What was disorienting was how she _knew_ , going by nothing. They arrived on Buteral in the dead of its long night, and she and the other two majors were given head lamps to wear. A man was waiting for them to disembark. The insignia pinned on his jacket glinted in the lights; he was a general. His head was lowered, turned away from the glare of the lamps, and his hair was brown.

And she knew: this was an Alderaani man, when there was nothing to tell her. Brown was nothing special; Han had brown hair. It was common.

The general was waiting for them, his own head lamp turned off. The majors saluted him but the lights prevented him from noticing. He was squinting, trying to angle his head, peering behind them.

Carlist Rieekan was an envoy for the House of Organa. Highly placed; an associate of her father's. He had been in the meeting when Leia proposed the first time to be the one to accept and deliver the plans.

She didn't know him well, but she was the Princess and she had called him Carlist. Now he was General Rieekan and his attendance at their arrival- largely in part because she was on board, she knew that, too- almost toppled her, and again she thought her father could have survived. Should have survived, but that was awful, and she swallowed that thought too, because it meant her happiness meant someone else's despair, and that was selfish, and unreasonable, and anyway it wasn't what happened.

Death was simple on Buteral. When the sun finally provided some daylight the sea had receded, and Leia noticed a dead fish. It was on its side, a feathery fin sprawled out, telling Leia the fish had struggled. Caught in the rapid ebb, the waters too shallow for it to escape. She stared at it, breathing in gulps, trying not to cry. Had her father elected to die, chose the planet over his daughter?- but that wasn't right. He thought his daughter was dead. Chose to join the daughter rather than save the planet...

Leia shook her head sharply, to shut the thoughts up. They just kept coming, like she was still under the effects of the interrogation drugs or Vader's mind probe.

Buteral's night was a starless darkness. Water surged around; Leia could hear it rushing forward and then shrinking away, an unsure child, but she couldn't see it. No one else saw the general place his left fist over his heart and the beam from her headlamp passed over him rapidly twice: _No._ He could have asked her _may I walk in your shadow_ or _how could you let this happen_ but instead he greeted them, and he welcomed them, and he kept talking. The general apologized for the long night, of which he had no control, but they would be waking early, in the dark, and Leia wanted to tell him, _stop bringing Alderaan into this_ even though he never mentioned it, but she also couldn't bring herself to talk to him.

She didn't sleep. Her room was brightly lit, small. She opened the window. The noise of the sea enlarged the room. She turned the light off and cast the beam of her head lamp from her forehead out the window. Strange features suddenly jumped in the way of her vision as her head turned an arc, as if she were moving fast and rushing up to them. She tested turning the headlamp off and just watched the darkness, trying to pick up something other than sound.

The sea reminded her to take caution. There was a wildness in it, like her anger; it kept rushing in, never spent but never effective anyway. It retreated, gathering the same strength to try again.

There was no one to tell her to sleep. No maiden to urge her to rest. They would stay awake with her. Sometimes, if her head was reeling from excitement, they played cards. Other times, like when her mother was sick or Leia scared one read a story aloud and they all listened. Did they even like her? Had anyone loved her? Why did their deaths feel like hypocrisy?

 _Mine,_ Leia answered.

Her Alliance issue was already in the room, shipped from Yavin after she had taken the oath. Leia inspected it with the lights on. Data manual, kit, uniform and blaster. The almost-gross of candles, if it had been delivered, was elsewhere. The uniform was still pinned in its packaging, creases sharp and defined.

The Death Star gown had become her own uniform of sorts, for almost two weeks. Since her arrest. No one wanted to see it anymore, she thought, and she rubbed the bodice with care. It wouldn't mean to the refugees what it meant to her and she didn't want to anger them. To even _call_ it the Death Star gown-

Luke had changed clothes without ceremony. Went from a farm boy to a pilot in a heart beat. But he'd always wanted that, Leia thought. She wished she could talk him, and she wondered how he was doing.

 _I'll send him a holomessage,_ she resolved. If she couldn't wear the gown, she needed... Luke was like her roots, she thought. From the moment he entered her cell, and set her free. She took off. She had to.

Sometimes, when she pictured the Death Star- not solid under her feet, Tarkin alive and talking- but looking like Alderaan after the laser, she had half a mind to grab Luke, Han and Chewie and win the war herself.

The sea retreated with a hiss and Leia turned the lights out once more to change her clothes in the dark. She did with her Death Star gown what she had with Mon Mothma's on Yavin: folded it carefully and set it for storage. If they had to evacuate, Princess Leia had something to take now. Something to care for. And in turn the Alliance would tend to it, too. It was a step in the right direction. Then she sat on the small cot, feeling the fabric of the pants around her legs.

 _I'll read to you,_ she told the room, its maiden, and activated the data board, and studied the operations manual.

* * *

During the sun's weak reign the sea was silent and far away. Leia was fascinated by- she didn't know what to call it. The undershore? Not quite land, definitely not beach. The sea bed, she supposed. Black and shiny, a rich-looking muck. But the exposed ridge of the shoal was hard and crusty, and Leia balanced carefully upon it. She'd walked a long way; she much preferred the wind's pull to the stifling confinement of her quarters. The air had a distinct aroma of healthy rot.

The light was already dimming, and the line of horizon separating sea and sky seemed to rise, so she headed for the bridge. She wanted to watch the sea come in. General Rieekan said it came at dark, and she was double checking that her headlamp was still working, when something caught her eye.

A tiny bulge, a jerk of motion. Leia stared.

Snails! She hadn't noticed any before- watching the stillness of the dead fish, there was nothing else. There were hundreds, if not thousands, like tiny tumors, once you knew what to look for. Leia sat and watched them, dangling her legs from the bridge's surface. What were the snails doing? Is this the time when they were free? What did they do when when the water covered them? It felt important, to understand this land that would be her home, or her people's home, anyway.

The thought of people on this place... bridges, connecting the independent humps of risen earth...they'd be like snails at low tide. Everywhere. It was a bit nauseating.

But that was people. Leia told herself. Humans. They'd scattered themselves all over the galaxy, as soon as they were able. Anywhere they could breathe. They took over, changed everything, and from that perspective it made so much sense that one planet, not her people, would be the thing to disappear.

 _We've come,_ Leia apologized to the sea.

"May I fall in your shadow?" a voice came off to the side. General Rieekan, offering the Alderaani greeting of a lesser to higher.

Leia closed her eyes. "You may sit," she answered. She could hear her mother say it. _You may sit,_ dry and weary. Once Rieekan had lowered himself awkwardly onto the bridge floor, she told him, "You'll tell them not to greet me so, Carlist."

"Your Highness," General Rieekan began, but Leia cut him off. She hadn't known him well, but she remembered him differently. He walked with a stoop now, and everything was prefaced with a mournful grin.

"No," she said firmly. "I won't." After a while, because he was treating her as a much higher authority, when he was the general and remaining silent, she said, "There's safety in numbers, you know."

"Your Highness?"

"I've been watching the snails. Do you see them? There are so many. All the same size. They all look the same. You are but one thread in the tapestry, Carlist. And I... The goddesses entrusted me- us, the House of Organa- with the warp. I was supposed to add the weft. Not cut it from the loom." She looked at him. "Where were you?"

"A question only one of us would ask." Rieekan swept his arm out, indicating the refugees yet to come. He closed his eyes tightly. "On Naboo. Your father sent me to keep pressing the current queen. She is fearful of Palpatine. There is a growing trend of pride the planet produced the Emperor."

Leia said softly, "Fools. And your wife?" She tried to recall the details, what had become history. "Two sons?"

"I left all behind." Rieekan's chin lowered almost to his chest. "It was supposed to be a quick trip. I suppose it was."

Leia nodded in understanding. "It's the after that is forever." The light was growing dimmer. Leia couldn't make out the snails anymore. "There will be so many with the same tale."

"You will weave it for us."

She shook her head. Maybe she had the advantage because she stood on the Death Star, or because she was the Princess. "No," she said, her voice still soft. "I think it's done."

Neither spoke for a time. Then Leia ventured, her voice directed toward the snails, "Do you know what a refugee is?"

At Rieekan's silence, she continued. "Someone forced to leave their homeworld. We aren't refugees. It's true in the sense we have no other place to go, but we don't fit the term."

"Homeless, then," Rieekan suggested. He started to pull something from his pocket. "We should head in." His headlamp, Leia saw, and she looked at the sky, watching for signs of the sun set.

"Tide's rush," he told her. He gave her that mournful grin. "It's not called sunset here. Tide's rush."

Leia could hear it. Water, moving quickly. The noise filled the air much as the water filled the sky.  "That's why I'm sitting. I want to see it. Or, hear it."

"Oh." Rieekan took a half step forward, stopped, bent his knees, and stopped again. Leia had the distinct impression sitting on the floor was difficult for him, and remembered she needed to dismiss him.

"You have your own shadow, General Rieekan. I'm safe on the bridge?"

"Yes." Rieekan adjusted his lamp and then shoved his hands in his pocket. "We haven't seen a storm but they built the bridge with flooding in mind."

Leia twisted to peer up at him. Silhouetted in the dark, his brown hair shadowed like the rest of him, he still looked Alderaani. "Have the candles arrived?"

There was broken grief and gratitude in his voice. "You ordered candles?"

They weren't here yet, then. Maybe they added one more delivery to Han's contract. Maybe she would see him again. "On my own," she took pains to explain. "What I could find on short notice."

Rieekan grunted. "We've got a budget now."

The air was roaring. Leia's heart thumped some more. Tide's rush, she said to herself. She felt the power of the sea, its vastness. It changed the whole character of the submoon. From weak light and quiet, efficient soil to darkness, the menace of change. She turned on her lamp, and the water sparkled back, rolling and black. It was clear how quickly it was moving, and the ridge where she had walked earlier was now covered, curling water smashing over it.

"I went to the Graveyard," she told him. Her voice was still quiet, yet it carried over the sea.

In the darkness, she thought he nodded. "I heard."

"Would you want to see it?" Leia was curious to learn if her desire to visit it stemmed from her own sense of responsibility.

"What was it like?" he wanted to know.

"It was... tender."

"What the galaxy lacks at the moment," Rieekan said.

Leia thought of Chewie, and the haven his furry embrace offered, and then Han, and the way Chewie cuffed the back of his head. "The living make it complicated," she said. "But I don't think it's gone entirely."

"That's good to hear," the general grinned at her sadly.

"You have your own shadow," Leia reminded him, and he gave her a nod, and left her to watch the sea.

In his sad, sad smile, in his stooped posture even, there was Alderaan. Not the General's two sons, nor his wife, though his pain was palpable; but the planet, the wholeness of a loss they shared together. They were still Alderaani. They were- a culture. A community. To be able to step into shadows, and to watch the flame of a candle burn with someone who knew...

With a small ache of sympathy, she suddenly remembered Luke, and the pilot friend he spoke of after the Battle of Yavin, the one he knew from "home".

There was so much loneliness in the world, Leia thought. And struggle. _I saw you, fish._ On the bridge, alone in the dark and with her lamp darkened, Leia couldn't forget the fish on its side, mouth and eyes open, or how it had tried. Luke's friend knowingly risked death, as had her father. The fish was different. In the moment of its death, it wasn't trying to be brave; it wasn't trying to make a difference. It just thought it would die differently. It just wanted to live.

_I saw you, Alderaan._

Leia's heart jumped to her throat and she cried.


	30. Time, Memory and Forgiveness

By Alderaanian custom, when a person died they were severed from the living. Only their memory may be kept alive. The dead made their way unseen to the otherworld, accompanied by the warmth of candlelight, and the spirits Memory, Time and Forgiveness.

But now the dead far outnumbered the living. They had died together, all at once. Leia thought of the Graveyard as the otherworld. And the dead were... Forgiveness had reached them, she thought, for they weren't hounding her for revenge. They were... she remembered how serene she thought the Graveyard was, how surreal the knowledge of the violence upon the planet felt. She knew who was there: her father, the maidens, all the friends and servants she had known throughout her life. Her mother, too, from years before.

It was the living who had been severed from their world. All worlds: the physical, the living, and the other.

And Leia didn't know what to do. The physical world of Alderaan had become its own spirit, and Leia was not a priest in a temple; she did not know what the spirit was trying to tell her. Alderaan lurked in the darkness; even with her headlamp on, no better than blinders, it followed her along the shoal, across the bridge. It hissed like a wave receding, furious and demanding.

Or it was a wind at her hair, blurring the two coiled rolls of hair into a fuzzy halo. As she walked Alderaan shed from her, like leaves from a tree. Resigned and lost, it fell away.

Which would the refugees want? Leia's uncertainty kept her up at night. Angry or whimpering? It was them she would not recognize, she feared. And they weren't... unified, like the dead. At peace. Would it anger them- would it anger the _spirit_ \- if some customs weren't rebuilt on Buteral? Should she implement change? Time had run out. Memory was all they had.

No queen had ever been faced with such a task. And she was still only the Princess. If they even wanted her...

Alderaan was, used to be, a pacifist world. She had thought, maybe the refugees might want to join the Alliance. Follow their Princess into battle.

Major Klander settled that for her. "No weapons," he told her. "We have to bear in mind the existence of a heightened vulnerability. Evidence supports that violent acts, whether directed toward another or oneself, increase when a weapon is readily available."

Leia had learned two things about Major Klander just by observing him at the snack counter: he liked free things, and he liked eating. She also guessed his wispy red hair would be gone in a few years, but he seemed to be good at his job. He met with Leia for hours, asking questions about all sorts of things; phrases and lore and culture. "I'm not saying they can't enlist," and he looked her uniform over, pausing at the small blaster holstered at her hip, "but a blaster is part of the uniform. I would hate to see it put to use for the wrong reason." He added, maybe because he saw the look of uncertainty cloud Leia's eyes, "Not until we know they are ready. A weapon can lead to an impulsive reaction."

She didn't press it. Too, she thought she might even agree with that statement. Not everyone, of course, but perhaps those with... an emotional urgency. Of course, living in a weaponless society gave her little real experience. There weren't many with whom she'd spent time who were also armed.

Luke had his father's lightsaber, and he hadn't pulled it out the whole time on the Death Star. Had he? He could have cut a hole in the wall of the garbage masher, or run to General Kenobi's defense. But he hadn't. He probably didn't know how to use it. But if it enticed impulse, Luke had none. Whereas Han and his blaster... Leia remembered he shot at a noise when Chewie showed fear. How do you shoot a noise, she shook her head bemusedly. And after he used it on the storm troopers, he followed it, not them; as if it were more than something he held in his hand... his brains, she teased him by herself.

What the Alderaani needed was proof, Leia thought. Proof of the spirits, so they would come together like the dead had. She didn't have a candle yet in her office, and she spent most of the time listing everyone she could think of, because deciding on clothing made her eyes bleary, and she had told Han she would, and it was something she could do.

It was a stream of names; one after the other in a long line, like a great sea. Bail Organa's was the first, and she followed it with those in his office. Next came her maidens, and their parents and siblings she could think of; on and on. She was Memory.

* * *

 

When the darkness fell again and the sea roared over the snails, Leia escaped her office and paced the bridge. She didn't wear her headlamp; the bridge was smooth and straight, with a railing, and she didn't want anyone to notice her little round light bouncing along.

There was only one bit of past that didn't clench her heart so terribly. She was barely twenty, a short life compared to someone like Carlist Rieekan, but memories of Alderaan were never only visual that she could recount with a fond smile; never merely _I had a rope swing on the big tree in the family garden._ The memory of the sight of tree was enough to tighten her heart; its large, solid trunk, the way the branches scattered upwards, reaching to the sun, and then to see in her mind the little girl throwing her feet up to the sky, happy and carefree, when she knew how the little girl would grow up...

She thought about the Death Star. Specifically, just the few hours she walked it with Luke, Han and Chewie. Alderaan was gone, and it wasn't until the Death Star was too that Leia would fall apart. Now she viewed the men and Wookiee as... a haven. A tourniquet. They narrowed her thinking.

She hadn't been able to message Luke. She had tried. Started a recording, forced a falsely bright, "Hi, Luke" out, and was unable to say anymore. Because she'd kind of... infected him, with her first. Ruined his world. She doomed his aunt and uncle, brought Kenobi to his own death. She could have told him, "everything you love will die," because it was true, but instead she said, "there wasn't anything you could have done," and that was a paraphrase.

 _Poor Luke_ , she thought for the hundredth time. She could hear him argue with her. _Come on, Leia. I don't think that's true. The Force doesn't pick favorites._ And he would list all the love he'd seen, his aunt and uncle, twisting his face in anguish, but he would wave it away with his hand. _It's okay; love didn't kill my aunt and uncle. The Empire did._ And then in the next breath he could laugh, _Do you think Han and Chewie count?_

Yes, he was special. She needed to learn from him. Perhaps the other Alderaani would be like him, sad but hopeful. It was too bad that just when he shed that poncho and the confines of Tatooine to taste his own destiny, all he had were secrets.

 _Poor Luke_ , she kept thinking, and it always brought her back to Kenobi, though she tried hard to detour the thought. She hated the constant questions; they never gave her a moment's peace. Even with the one safe memory of the Death Star, when she was calm and capable. _Why?_ Why was everything. Why- how- did Palpatine seize power, why was she rescued and why was Alderaan not? She'd been down this road before, over and over again. She had no information and nothing ever changed. The similarities between her and Luke meant nothing. Mere coincidence was all. So he was an orphan. She got the feeling Han was too; sadly it wasn't uncommon. She hadn't had family to raise her like Luke had his aunt and uncle. Her father had brought her as a baby to the House of Organa. He could have brought her to anyone, but instead chose to have her be his daughter. And a whole planet welcomed her. He steered her to this moment, though he it would never cross his mind in a thousand years to where he brought her.

A whole planet...

Shakily, Leia closed her eyes and put her hand on the bridge railing. She ground out the questions into the roar of the sea. What did her father know? Why did Kenobi wait? Why didn't he steer Luke? And if her father knew why Kenobi was waiting, did he know of Luke's destiny? Was there something of hers-

If her father knew, if there was something about her he knew, he would tell her. He'd always been like that. He told her things when he thought she was ready. He was a gentle, loving father, and his destiny was to die when his homeworld exploded.

Palpatine would call him a fool. And Tarkin was the one to-

The secret, Leia forced herself back on track, if there was one, was gone. Just like Luke's. Her father had left it somewhere, because he knew he had to prepare. _No one retires from this._ So he had left it for her and she should know, but he couldn't have known what was going to happen to Alderaan, and so now she may never know.

* * *

 

Across three monitors, Rieekan had spread out the list of systems reporting Alderaani populations. One monitor was for Alderaani who had relocated; another for those with temporary residency, such as students and those with visas; and the third was Alderaani who reported to an embassy after the destruction.

It was evidence, Leia thought; private evidence of her failure, and she was glad she and Rieekan met alone, without the prying eyes of Dr. Renzatl or Major Klander.

"It's these that have our highest priority," General Rieekan left a smudge on the third monitor with his finger.

Leia nodded slowly, looking at the list of eleven systems and trying to mentally calculate the number of Alderaani.

"One hundred fifty-seven," General Rieekan informed her.

Leia blinked. The number was unexpected. So precise, and she was trying to decide if it was a large or small number.

"Those here," Rieekan indicated the second monitor, "number quite a bit, but they are safe. They've got housing, at any rate, and meal plans. They'll need us eventually, but for now..."

"One hundred fifty seven," she repeated slowly. She had, she thought, imagined thousands. And Buteral was already crowded with the few humans fighting the sea for space. "Can- can Buteral handle that?"

"There's not a lot of land," Rieekan agreed with a sad smile. "And the sea limits construction time. The CTC is sending tents and water craft."

Leia stared at the monitor. "When you think of the total population," she breathed, "it doesn't... it's not much."

"No. A scratch on the surface, I would think. Assana is unstable; they probably can't get to the embassy. Ord Mantell has a heavy Imperial presence but it's fiercely independent. I would bet they are sneaking off rather than ask for help."

"What about Coruscant? Mon was concerned for Alderaani living in Imperial City."

Rieekan winced. "We have no indication they are being held against their will. Or that their lives have suffered any disruption. Reports are that several yachts took off from the City after the destruction, but they have returned."

"They went to the Graveyard," Leia surmised with confidence. "To see for themselves. And then what- they..."

"They went home," Rieekan said, his voice quiet. "To Imperial City."

"They- did nothing? Lost all those family members and friends," Leia felt an anger build, "and just... shrugged? Went back to the lives they had on Coruscant? Are they even going to burn the candle?"

"I couldn't say, Your Highness. Those that are on worlds like Coruscant, or Chandrila- the larger, developed ones- have appealed to that world for assistance. And, to be fair," Rieekan exhaled a sigh, "they have made a life elsewhere. They have homes, their children go to school."

"And what good is the candle so far away," Leia said.

"There is also a large number of offworlders on Alderaan at the time of... at the time," Rieekan mentioned.

Leia felt her heart sink. "Good goddesses," she whispered. "Tourists. Students. Immigrants. Of course."

Rieekan nodded.

"Do they want- what are those worlds doing? I'll have to contact them."

"There's nothing they can want from us," Rieekan shrugged. "Daleria had several school groups visiting. They are playing it up in the press, pictures and stories with the names. There's a call for retribution.

"Too many innocents," Rieekan said. "One result is it has expanded the war."

Leia put her face in her palm. "This damned war," she swore. It was a relief she wasn't the only one who wanted to count their dead, but if Alderaan was targeted than it should have only been Alderaan to suffer.

It was too overwhelming. And the offworld Alderaani, their reaction, if true, hurt. Was it possible, to become less of something? "I don't know why... I thought this place would be for solidarity...but it's so small... That our cultural identity would be... But it's business as usual, isn't it?" She lifted her head to Rieekan. "Except for the ones who don't have a change of clothes or money to exchange. We're reaching the desperate ones. And for those who do have, they don't ask the Empire; Palpatine has hardly addressed Alderaan in public. And he makes it seem as if the Alliance is inconsequential."

"Everything is uncertain," Rieekan agreed. "I wish we had a way to see into the future, to see if it's worth all this struggle."

"And if you learned it wasn't? Would you quit?" Leia said sharply. "I wouldn't. A fight may be lost, Carlist, but it's there for someone else to take up later. That is the message of history."

Rieekan bowed his head. "Of course you are right, Your Highness."

Leia stopped the discussion with a curt nod. It was the only thing that was certain. Numbers were too high or too low, the submoon was open but uninviting. She was proud of her role but she would tell her father war wasn't the course to pursue. Her god's eye view that would witness a planet's destruction gave her its infinite past, and beyond it she had the future. Not an outcome, but a knowledge.

One had to struggle for peace. Many would die for the idea. But entropy worked on peace. Peace could not last.

It may not come in her lifetime, but the fight was always meant to be passed on to someone else. _Goddesses, you made the queen mortal._ It was beings that killed peace, but it was beings that fought to restore it.

* * *

 

She fretted over the arrival. Sleep was a faithful friend but it fled, and on her cot she pictured a group disembarking, looking around at the darkness, placing headlamps over their foreheads... What they needed couldn't be held in their hands but had to be tucked into their hearts. Was any being or agency equipped to deliver such a thing?

She didn't understand why the CTC was sending a recovery corp. It wasn't as if they needed to search, or make rescue. There was no rubble to clear away. No threat of disease. It seemed... a traditional response to disaster. Useless in the face of this new one, a whole planet's loss.

The Alliance's response was military. General Rieekan was in charge of daily operations on Buteral but also the defense of the submoon. Several fighter squadrons were due in, just in case. Tensions were high. Emperor Palpatine's only public speech since the destruction was in repsonse to Mon Mothma's declaration of war. He informed the galaxy that any system that left the Empire would be punished, and he had made good on his word by ordering strikes against Chandrila and Duros. The Alliance had rushed in to help defend, but alongside the large planetary navies they just looked like aid.

It was a clever way to wage war, Leia thought. The Alliance's role was so diminished it hardly seemed there was a war. Chandrila's punishment, compared to the bombing of Corellia, was not directed to the populace but to the government. The Empire descended upon a system with strong planetary shielding and a large military response, so that on its own, the Alliance looked like an afterthought, a kid playing dress up. The Imperial Navy was superior, in number anyway; but rather than pursue a course of victory, the Empire fought the navy, swatting away the Alliance craft like they were gnats, and then left.

Leia paid attention to the holonews and public perception. It was interesting; fascinating, really, the impression lengthy star battles left on attitude and opinion. The losses were military: pilots and ships. The holonews showed footage of the evidence of battle in space, but it was the the streak of a downed craft burning as it fell through atmosphere, the collection of pieces of wreckage. Citizens' lives were disrupted by the restriction in trade. The war didn't really hit home. It was a nuisance.

A delicate strategy. Insidious. Palpatine had never underestimated the power of public opinion. During his short reign, he had managed to turn slavery into a boon, the Jedi into predators. If the Alliance didn't strike another blow soon, the public would decide the Galactic Civil War existed in the mind of Mon Mothma.

* * *

 

During the day, the Alderaani needs were met. When she lay on her cot at night, they still had to arrive. And she pictured them, their steps unsteady as they disembarked the transport, looking around in the dark. Or would it be the brief period when the sun broke through? Would they hold their left hands against their heart? Were their faces dazed, or grateful, or angry? Would they hear the sea?

At night, they had no needs. Their sustenance came from shock and anger. No need for a change of clothes, for a rubble sweeper, or for a princess. On her cot she saw them snatching up stones, and that's when she couldn't take it anymore. She made herself get up and open the window.

Against the darkness, the only thing the windows were good for was to let in sound. They would be better placed in the roof if their purpose was for light. The darkness was constricting, even with the headlamps, even with the bright glare of the spotlights in the construction zones. The only true thing the beam of her light showed her was there was a lot she wasn't seeing.

If she had to be inside, she was at a window. They were another tradition misunderstood. She liked that they opened; true, the air smelled almost fetid but you got used to it. The wind was refreshing and the sound was wonderful. It was a new role for a window; it formed a relationship with sound rather than sight, and yet that's not why the architect included them.

It was obvious whoever drew up plans for temporary residence had never bothered to visit Buteral. The construction was bland and familiar. The windows were useless. There was no other word for it.

"There is. I have one," Major Klander was munching on a free muffin when Leia uttered the thought aloud. "Coruscanti," was his word.

Imperial? Leia wondered, interested in the statement, for Coruscant was the ancient planet on which Palpatine placed his throne. The walls of the buildings in Imperial City were often entire sheets of clear duroglass. It was some indication of the evolution of residence, intriguing to Leia. She had often thought, if she hadn't come to a royal family where politics ran thicker than tradition, she might have become a research historian.

On Alderaan, the feature of a window in housing was old, but not as old as the need for shelter. The earliest structures contained no holes cut into walls. The original purpose was for sentry, Leia had learned; not to enjoy one's relationship with nature, but to watch for one's enemies. The first windows were slits in a wall, only wide enough to point a weapon. As time went by, and peace advanced Alderaan's civilization, the size of windows increased. Rather than provide a protective view outside, the role of windows shifted to bring light inside.

And out from the duroglass viewport of the Death Star, Leia had a god's eye view of all of Alderaan, tranquil in the sea of space...

* * *

 

Two nights before the first arrival, Leia had a dream. She was in her cell on the Death Star, and the door whisked open to reveal Darth Vader. This was just as it must have happened in real life: Leia recognized the feeling of dread, how she shrank against the wall a little; the icy fear that something awful was about to befall her. And then Vader escorted her; Leia was cold; he was black like a void. He respected her.

He brought her, not to the bridge of the Death Star but the landing pad of Buteral. And there he gripped her shoulders tightly with his fingers, holding her in place. He forced her to watch as the ramp of a shuttle transport slowly opened, and the first Alderaani stepped on Buteral.


	31. Grit and Withdrawal

"What have the past few days meant to you?" Dr. Renzatl wanted to know. She had set two chairs on each side of the window in her quarters.

Leia looked around without answering. It was awkward. Somewhat forced. The rooms were so small. They had decided upon how they would meet before they got here, out of consideration for Leia's privacy. But now she saw it meant Dr. Renzatl was sacrificing a bit of personal space, and Leia didn't want preferential treatment. She hadn't realized it earlier; hadn't thought much about it, which was unlike her. This was space Dr. Renzatl could kick off her shoes in if she was so inclined, but not when there was a Princess to watch. Anyway, Buteral was on Leia's side. The darkness cloaked her. She could move around by herself, and keep to herself.

"You told me you were eager to be productive," Dr. Renzatl reminded Leia.

That was true. Leia remembered saying as much. Was it on Yavin? She remembered feeling that way, too, a drive, an urge. "Yes," she answered. She remembered she had told Dr. Renzatl it would make a difference.

There was nothing in her office. A desk, a few chairs. A computer terminal. Data catalogs, but the order forms were still blank. An open window, Leia's nose numbed to the rank air; the noise of the sea leaving, and when the sun shone, the silence of low tide while she wrote the list of names.

"And the first arrivals are due in," Dr. Renzatl prompted again.

Leia simply looked at her. "Yes," she said again. She should say something, she knew, but nothing seemed worth the effort. Outside, if the window were open, they would hear the roar of the sea, but inside silence grew.

After a while Dr. Renzatl took the tie out of her hair and tossed it onto the small wardrobe. The movement was familiar, somehow. Leia recognized it as a gesture of polite restraint. Impatience, possibly.

"Your Highness," Dr. Renzatl said, and paused to phrase her thoughts carefully. "I have learned that you are a principled person. And strong. You don't back down from a fight. Isn't that why you are here?"

"That's true," Leia allowed. Dr. Renzatl meant the here that was the Rebellion, which was kind and flattering, but Leia answered to the here that meant TRAD.

"This is your fight. This fight is as important as what the pilots are doing, as the soldiers. I would say this even if you weren't the Princess of Alderaan, but perhaps I'd give you more time to be silent. The fact is, you _are_ the Princess and there are others who need you to fight for them."

Leia slid forward in the chair a bit. The words stirred something in her, and she felt- not fragile, but trembly.

"Do you feel pressured by your duties?"

"No," Leia said swiftly. It was not a lie. Pressure was the wrong word. She was burdened. "I know you want me to talk. I told myself I would. It's just, nothing seems to belong in here."

"Nothing is inconsequential. Has anything been on your mind? The refugees?"

Leia spread her hands. "Well, of course."

"I mean in ways other than what you, and we, have been doing here."

Leia got up and stood at the window. She couldn't see out of it. Inside, against the darkness and with a bright light, it reflected her own empty seat and Dr. Renzatl sitting patiently in hers, a small cot and wardrobe behind them. "I don't see," she sighed, "how me thinking about windows, and architecture and a dead fish can help. My thoughts have been- like yours, I imagine. All over the place. Broad. I think about tradition, or... things that become traditional. How little _thought_ goes into things."

Dr. Renaztl's smile was sympathetic. "You see? Quite a list." She made notes on her tablet. "I saw the fish. The one beyond the bridge?"

"Yes." Leia returned to her seat, intrigued that someone else also saw the poor fish. She sat on her hands. "I think it must have gotten caught in the tide."

"And-" Dr. Renzatl started to say as her stylus tapped on the tablet, but then lifted her head to Leia, "tell me why you thought that. As opposed to the fish dying of illness, or even old age."

Leia frowned. "That's possible, I suppose-" she broke off, rejecting the other scenarios outright. "It's this place. Things happen in the dark and under the water. It's harsh and severe."

"Buteral means life is a struggle for survival," Dr. Renzatl suggested.

The statement was a bit dramatic, but when Leia considered it she didn't disagree. "Yes."

"Life is less likely to reach its natural end," the doctor said. 

Why was she pressing this, Leia wondered. "Dying in a tidal pool is a natural end," she countered. "Only a terrible one. A difficult one."

"Do you see yourself in old age?"

Leia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She hadn't been sleeping well. "Not really. Not yet. I'm only twenty."

"Lots of twenty year olds see themselves with a partner in their future, or children. A career."

Leia looked toward the glass and watched her reflection shake ito head.

"You don't see yourself as Queen?"

"Of course not," Leia answered without thinking. She watched Dr. Renzatl make a note. "There's a war," she went on, feeling like she needed to explain herself. "I would think that many twenty year olds caught up in it would stop thinking of a future, because the war takes all their immediate attention."

"Alright." Dr. Renzatl let it go. Silence resumed, but Leia could tell the doctor was waiting, conducting their conversation, letting time stipulate a natural break before resuming.

"Of course," Dr. Renzatl resumed quietly, back on the fish, "encountering death is a powerful image for even the most well-adjusted. Are you struggling?"

That one was easy to answer. "No. I couldn't die if I tried."

Dr. Renzatl's brows were up. "What do you mean?"

Leia squirmed, suspecting she'd said something odd. "Since my arrest, nothing has happened. I was supposed to be executed. Then Luke and Han were with me, but they weren't- shielding me, or anything like that. We were all over the Death Star- _it_ could have killed us." Leia was remembering the moving walls of the garbage masher, and the breathless swing over the missing walkway with Luke on a single grappling hook. "Stormtroopers were firing at us. Their bolts were flying everywhere and missing. Then on Yavin, the Death Star was seconds away. And yet here I am."

"Let me be sure I understand you. You're untouchable?"

"Not..." Leia squirmed some more. "Not in that way. Not like I've been blessed with a power, like Luke. He has the Force." She thought of the Graveyard. "Like I don't belong."

"Are you excluded? Unwanted?"

"No." Leia was sure about that, from how gentle the Graveyard appeared from space. "I can join them when... when I'm finished. I suppose after the war is won."

"The dead are waiting. Waiting for their Princess?"

"No." Her brow furrowed, not liking the question. She would like to be Leia when she died, without any responsibility, but for some reason death wouldn't free her from that. She was only the Princess on Alderaan, and so she would remain always. "Not waiting. They are... just there. And, they'll... accept me. I'll join their number, is all." She frowned again. Was that the reason for the list? "I've been doing something here, for the dead."

"Tell me."

"The main project I've been working on, besides meeting with General Rieekan and Major Klander is..." Leia bit her lip, but it was too late to stop. "I'm compiling a list of names." She tried to make it sound official and not as coming from someone who did it because they could concentrate on nothing else. "Of the dead. Anyone I can think of. But, maybe you can- I'm not sure who I'm doing it for. If it's for the refugees, or the dead, or-"

"Perhaps for yourself."

Leia nodded. "Yes. Yes, I want to; it is important. When Alderaan happened-" an odd way to refer to it, Leia recognized, but to state specifically what happened was too difficult, took too long; she would have to start from the beginning- "it hit the galaxy hard. Now, focus is on the war. I don't want all those people forgotten. I don't want it to be a place that's gone; you know, just a planet. I want it to be remembered as a place where so many life forms made a home."

"It sounds like something the other Alderaani would appreciate very much. Maybe they can even help add to your list."

"Yes. I want that. It's the only way I feel I can relate to them." Leia watched Dr. Renzatl make a note on her tablet. "That's what I wanted to ask: is it... normal? to have one's head with the dead more than the living? I go to bed thinking of the dead: My father and the maidens, Tarkin even, and then I wake up and I write their names."

"You've suffered a tremendous shock. You knew that, I'm sure, but often beings don't give themselves enough time to get over it. They don't see how it can snowball."

"I worry that... somehow...it changed me."

"What changed you?"

"The... moment. The moment it happened."

"You mean the destruction. How do you think it changed you?"

"Well," Leia twisted her hands. "When I was with Mon- the Minister. We were having a discussion about the aftermath and what the Alliance response to the refugee crisis should be; it was when she asked me to lead the effort." Leia stopped; the word 'lead' filled her with a bitter irony. Her hands were working by themselves, a fist rubbing the skin between the knuckles of the other. "Mon mentioned, thinking out loud, that she was worried for the those living in Imperial City."

"The Alderaani," the doctor clarified.

Leia rushed on. "And that's- as Senator, that would have occurred to me straight off. It's obvious! If I'd have been anything like myself, I'd have Captain Solo fly there and pull them out ourselves. Why didn't I? Instead I had him take me to the Graveyard."

"Well, I don't know," Dr. Renzatl said mildly. "We can reason that out together. There are obvious reasons why that idea would be dismissed before thinking it. For one, it's Imperial City. The heart of the Empire. A very risky place for you to go-"

"But I didn't even come _close_ to thinking it! And if Luke had come in my cell on the Death Star and said, "Come on, the Emperor is rounding up the refugees!" I'd have dashed out and gone there and done it. As easily as I dashed out and rescued myself." Leia paused, composing herself. "Instead I purchased candles," she concluded.

"Candles?" Dr. Renzatl frowned. "When was this?"

"When I didn't evacuate," Leia said calmly. That was the one thing she did not regret. To everyone else, it was the wrong decision, but Leia would stand by it. "When I left on the _Falcon_."

"I see. What were the candles for?"

"The dead."

Dr. Renzatl's mouth opened. "Ah, for the mourning period, like you told me you and your father observed when your mother died."

"The Month of Flame," Leia nodded. "Actually, I didn't purchase them. Captain Solo bought them." The admission calmed Leia. Han, the outsider. She relaxed her fingers and clasped them in her lap.

"I like your gesture," Dr. Renzatl said. "It's very concrete, very active."

"But it's for the dead. Like, they are more... not important, but I... I understand them better."

"But the candles will be-"

Leia interrupted, "I see that now, on the trip: I was focused on the loss, on the dead. On what can't be changed, or helped. Why can't I bring myself out of the dead?"

"Maybe that's why you write their names. It doesn't sound as if they prey on your mind, Your Highness."

"No. You can't worry about the dead."

"It sounds as if you're trying to come to terms with what happened. What are you feeling when you write their names?"

Leia thought. "Something like focus. Not quite. Like a mapping."

Dr. Renzatl nodded. "Any emotions you are aware of?"

Leia pictured herself at her desk, writing. "They are people I knew, saw. There's a separation. Ones I knew in life, and ones I know now in death."

"A separation? You or them?"

"Me. Like there are different Leias. Different life phases. The before, the after."

"I see." Dr. Renzatl was paying close attention. What's the before like?"

Leia shrugged. "Like a holo."

"It's passive? You just watch it?"

"Yes."

"And what is the after like?"

Leia breathed again. "Things are less clear. There's a... sorrow. It's big."

"So it's not just yours. It's the dead's sorrow?"

"Maybe. Yes. It's... big, as I said. Encompassing. I can't describe it-"

"Gut-wrenching?"

"No. Not like that. It's a..." Leia frowned, the language escaping her. "It's hard to describe. Not nice, but resigned."

"That's an excellent word," Dr. Renzatl said.

"I hate it," Leia said softly.

"But you do it. Why else do you think of them so much?" 

Leia needed to hide her quivering chin. She crossed her arms across the breasts and the fingers of one hand played with her upper lip. She didn't really understand the question, but she attempted to answer it. The concentration kept the tears at bay. "Because...there are so many. Because I loved them. Even if I didn't know them. Because it was my home. Because I'm their Princess."

"No one can be prepared for something like this, Your Highness," Dr. Renzatl said quietly. 

Outside, Leia knew, the sea rushed over the shoal and fish swam, safe for now. 

"It's brand new for you, too, isn't it," Leia said.

"It is," the doctor acknowledged.

The women were silent a moment. Leia reviewed what she had talked about and found her thoughts returning to the offworlders on Coruscant. "And then I found out there was no reason to be concerned," she bitterly.

"No reason-"

"The ones Mon worried about." Leia hadn't noticed what a jump her thoughts had made until she saw the look of confusion on the doctor's face. "I'm calm when I think of the dead. When I write their names. Sad, but calm. I get angry when I think of the living. They aren't coming here. The ones on Coruscant. The Empire isn't touching them. I don't know if they care."

Dr. Renzatl set an elbow on the arm of her chair and rubbed her stylus, eyeing Leia with pursed lips. "The dead represent Alderaan of an earlier time, when a person could leave and live elsewhere but still consider themselves Alderaani. It was the planet that held them together, those off- and on-world."

Leia picked up the thought. "Now it's gone, and we are all scattered, just like pieces of the planet, shooting out after the laser beam."

"Not just a loss of life, but a loss of a way of life."

Leia stared at the doctor intently. She had an uncanny way of summarizing her thoughts in a very concise fashion.

"I can see why you have dwelt on tradition," the doctor was continuing. "The candles are an excellent way of bringing a history and way of life into the present. As Princess," she continued thoughtfully, "I imagine you have to balance what is traditional with what is practical for the refugees."

"I have been thinking a lot about what it means to be Alderaani," Leia admitted. "I'm not so sure what that is anymore. I'm not sure what I need to provide."

"What have you provided for yourself? Perhaps you can measure needs by looking at yourself."

"I've done nothing. I joined the Alliance. Not for the culture, I assure you," Leia said dryly. "I use their clothing. I eat their food. If it wasn't set before me, I'm not sure I would even think to do that."

A look of concern crossed Dr. Renzatl's face. "But you are taking care of yourself?"

"Yes. Look at me," Leia spread her hands. "I'm fine."

Dr. Renzatl had no comment on Leia's appearance. She created another lapse in talk and Leia, who felt a bit more on firmer ground, studied her.

Dr. Renzatl was taller than Leia, and heavier. She sat with one leg crossed over the other wearing the uniform skirt with a casual grace. Old enough to have started and finished raising a family, and Leia wondered where they were. If they were. Finally, Dr. Renzatl spoke. She said, "Tell me about the fish. What you saw."

Leia gathered in her breath. She was good at descriptions. "It was way out. But I could see it was lying on its side. Its fin was- it had tried to, to save itself. Like it was trying to jump, but fish don't move that way and the tide was too fast."

"And?"

"And that's all."

"You remembered enough about the fish to bring it up here. I'd like to hear more. Go on; even if you didn't think it then, think it now."

Leia's knee jiggled quickly. The sight of the fish, or words, were in her chest, rising, but slower than the Tide's Rush.

"Try," Dr. Renzatl encouraged gently.

"I don't know what you want me to add," Leia said, feeling a quickening of her heart's pace. "It was a fish; who knows how many more live in this sea. And it died."

"Do you mean that?" Dr. Renzatl asked. "The image has stayed with you. And even if you think it a trivial matter, we learned much from it, didn't we?"

"I suppose," Leia said slowly. She was wary. Not just of the doctor's probing questions but of how she was answering them. 

"We talked about the dead, and a little of the living, and you, your relationship with each. And it all started from the fish. Let me ask you this: what about the fish stayed with you?"

"That it-" Leia struggled to speak. "That it was on its side. That it- I don't think it wanted to die. It had tried, struggled. And, it's like there are rules here; there's no help." Leia was visibly upset. The same raw emotion returned, the same desperate instinct told her she had arrived too late to save it. She made a noise and wiped at her eye. "Ech," she said with a shaky smile. "For a fish!" 

Dr. Renzatl smiled quietly. "You deserve the same compassion." She handed Leia a tissue. "What would you do differently?" the doctor's voice was still soft. "If you could."

"I would stay with it."

Dr. Renzatl repeated what Leia said. "You would stay with it." She nodded to herself. "You don't want it to be alone."

"No." Leia remembered how she had cried for the fish. "That's the most important thing."

Dr. Renzatl set her tablet on her lap. Leia hoped the doctor was done, but maybe she was giving Leia a break, letting her realize how lonely she was. She had not made any more notes, but then, Leia noted, the light of the transcriptor had been showing green this whole time. Still, she was patient, and Leia took advantage of the pause, bracing herself, rubbing her palms along her thighs for when they started up again. She wanted to speak, to break her own tension, to cross a boundary she knew she wasn't supposed to cross.

Dr. Renzatl had seen the fish. Carlist Rieekan sat with Leia on the bridge and didn't even comment on the snails. Dr. Renzatl had seen the fish, and maybe it meant she had encountered death, too.

The doctor switched which leg crossed the other and read over her notes. Leia watched her lowered eyes move across the screen, too fast to be reading. She was thinking, and now Leia gave her time. She felt- she knew she had moved the doctor, hit her with something she didn't normally meet in her line of work. It changed their dynamic. The doctor was working, not just sitting there sucking the words out of Leia, sucking up whatever Leia was clinging to. It was work, the same as when Major Klander asked about altar offerings, or when she and Han browsed the shelves of a general store, counting candles.

Finally, Dr. Renzatl gave Leia a sly smile. "I'm curious what you thought about windows," she said.

Leia's laugh was weepy. She felt drained. "I could deliver a lecture on the history of windows," she said. "I enjoy architecture. It's almost a hobby."

"What about them, though?" Dr. Renzatl turned her face to the black glass, waggling her eyebrows at it as she greeted her own reflection.

"Well, for as long as the darkness lasts here, I was thinking the windows are almost unnecessary."

Dr. Renzatl reached out and tapped the window. "They certainly don't provide much of a view."

"I like the ones here, don't get me wrong," Leia said. "I open them to hear the sea."

Dr. Renzatl seemed genuinely intrigued. "So the window here isn't really the same as a window elsewhere."

That was true enough. "Windows are a typical feature in most residences, but whoever planned these buildings never bothered to learn how atypical Buteral is."

"This connects with your thoughts on tradition as well. What's typical can become traditional. Or vice versa?"

Leia nodded.

"Have you drawn a conclusion?" Dr. Renzatl asked her.

Leia shrugged. She didn't know whehter Dr. Renzatl thought she was making a point. "It's up to us. We can't let a designer sitting at a desk on someplace like Shino-ak decide we need windows for light and the view. We have to upset his version of tradition and make a new one. Either that, or get rid of the window."

"Ah." Dr. Renzatl seemed unfairly satisfied, considering all the work she had put Leia through. "You see, you had your own answers already, but you disguised it with windows. You just needed the sounding board." She stood up. "That's good work. We can be finished for the day."

Leia stood too, a little dazed. The conversation earlier was sluggish and extracting; now it suddenly raced ahead, bouncing from subject to subject. Or had it? Leia felt like a student who'd been shouldered with a weighty homework assignment.

Dr. Renzatl escorted Leia to the door. As Leia passed through it, Dr. Renzatl remained on the other side of the threshold. "Thank you for tonight, Your Highness. You might feel fatigued," she cautioned. "Or emotionally sore."

Leia had her own phrase. "Beaten up."

Dr. Renzatl smiled. "Even the patient who learns to walk again has to fight through the pain. I'll see you next week. Good night."

"Good night." Leia faced the corridor. She usually walked the bridge some at night, but she decided to go to her quarters. 

 


	32. Observations, VIII

As a girl, Albrina Renzatl lived down-city. Not everybody did; Corellia's largest employers were the shipyards, and many workers stayed in orbit rather than make the costly commute each day. Her father was a banker, and she came along at a time when Corellia still enjoyed an economic boon. Her family home was in an old neighborhood, built long before it was common to live above the planet, and the space lanes were hidden above a wide canopy of carefully planted trees. Some of her friends were walked to school by Wookiee slaves, and most, Albrina's family included, owned a house at the shore. 

She was thinking about her childhood home now as she walked a durowood bridge over the black waters of Buteral. Down-city the houses were large and the lots small; the structures were several hundred years old but modernized on the inside. The houses themselves announced a community. It didn't matter who lived inside. Outside they were all in it together. The homes presented themselves the same distance from the tree line. Up and down the pedestrian lane it was the same; an equality, a togetherness that felt unique to her childhood, and even though she continued to gravitate toward cities as her choice of residence, none of them felt the same. Perhaps she kept looking for that childhood innocence that disappeared.

All of a sudden, Albrina realized it: she wouldn't return to Corellia. She had never thought it out loud before, and she was a little surprised at the finality of the statement, but there it was. And she decided it was time to sell the shore house she'd inherited after her mother and sister and three nephews died. She hadn't even bothered to stay there when she returned after the bombing. Not even to go for a couple of days, rest up, recover. It was far, for one thing, from where she was working with the children in the orphanages. And for another, it wouldn't feel the same. It would... mock her. _Remember_ , she could picture it telling her, _how you ran and swam and didn't have a care, and look what happened._  

She had never lived in a place like Buteral. Or Yavin, for that matter; being with the Alliance was certainly providing a scope of experience she would not normally seek out for herself. Construction did nothing to make it look less wild, and the water and the odd mountain range were like siblings.

Funny, how self-centered a being could be. She once had a discussion with Jaf Klander about that. His specialty, very unusual for a human, was winged compound-eyed. No doubt the choice arose from his homeworld, somewhere in the Outer Rim. As a girl, she had thought of the ocean as waiting for her family to come to the shore house. She and her sister would drop their bags as soon as they could, and run down to the sand with their arms outspread, shouting, "We're here!"

Buteral tolerated its visitors, Albrina thought. She palmed the door to her office, the light of her head lamp piercing the room until she activated the light system. She deposited the lamp on the corner of a shelf. She had to remind herself to not to toss it somewhere. General Dodonna had not been too pleased when she requested a new one, having broken the glass after tossing it casually on her desk. 

Albrina's carried two items from home, no matter where her office was located. They were packed with her files. The first was a unit of two blackened pieces of brick she used to prop up the long line of data manuals, and the other was a holocube that sat on her desk. It contained family holos. Pictures of her sister and nephews, and several of her husband.

Her husband's young eyes stared back at her. She remembered that time of her life. The promise, the hope. The other pictures were similar, though she chose ones that showed him age a bit, since she had, too. The most recent was taken, she reckoned, two years before his death. Maybe the cancer was growing in him but in the picture it wasn't visible. She hadn't included a picture from after the diagnosis. She was willing to bet she'd stopped taking them. 

The amount of time they were married never varied: seventeen years. But the time that passed since his death grew slowly larger. Fourteen years now. 

She turned around and stood before the brick ends. She picked one up, holding the data manuals back with the other hand to be sure they wouldn't fall. If she never went back, this was all she had? Was it enough? Was it right?

What if this was all there was, like Princess Leia and Alderaan, Albrina wondered. It was different, wasn't it. She didn't harbor any ill will toward her homeplanet. It was the Empire that changed it for her, made it a place of wreckage and sadness. That's why she had joined the Rebellion. Her skills couldn't really help fight a war, but the hope was those skills made for a better peace. 

She should go back. She was fortunate to be able to. If she considered the ones who were coming to Buteral, she was very fortunate indeed. 

Albrina sighed, and replaced the piece of brick. She rubbed the dust from it off on her uniform skirt, and gave her husband's time-captured face a doleful glance.

It was that brief time called Sun's Peak. The light was dim but the seabed was visible. Princess Leia was in her office, Albrina knew. Writing the names. When darkness fell- Albrina checked her chrono and saw there was still one hour forty five minutes til Tide's Rush- the Princess would emerge. 

Jaf had a lot of fun with the name. "Sun's Peak, like the mountains?" he had wondered. "It's not the mountains that hide the sun," he scoffed. "Better Sun's Peek. Spelled P-e-e-k. Right? Because it's hardly here. Or, it could be Sun's Pique. P-i-q-u-e. I like that one," he declared. "It never feels enough. Not enough light and not enough duration;  it's irritating."

His office was next door, and she could hear him through the thin walls talking to a droid. Adjusting the volume control, Albrina started the transcription, holding her fingers ready over a keyboard to annotate certain sections. 

 _"What have the past few days meant to you?"_ her voice said, and she knew it would be a moment for Princess Leia answered. 

 


	33. Renaissance, I

It hit her all of a sudden. What to do.

Her eyes had flown open; something had woken her up. The idea, she supposed, but what put it in her head-

Quickly, she dressed, mind separated from body. She welcomed the idea; reviewed it for weakness and flaws while her hair went up and the uniform covered her form. It didn't matter where it came from, but she was learning, slowly, to ask why of herself. If she didn't, she looked cockily at her reflection as she sonicked her teeth, Dr. Renzatl would. So she might as well have the answer by herself.

There had been a flurry of unconnected events that did it, Leia thought. And then they all came together like  a single clap.

First, the Alliance fighter squadrons arrived. There wasn't enough land to hold three squadrons, so they docked out in orbit with the large Calamari cruisers. Leia thought it must look impressive out in orbit, all those ships hovering like stars, and wandered into the small control room to see. 

She was disappointed. The interactive battle screen from where she attended the Battle of Yavin was elsewhere. Only two at a time worked a shift monitoring communications. They wore headsets and paid her no mind. General Dodonna was at another table, with numerous screens in front of him. He half-rose when he saw Leia but she signaled with her hand for him to remain seated. She hadn't quite gotten him to stop greeting her as royalty.

"Your Highness," he said. 

She, on the other hand, always called him by his military title. "General Rieekan," she answered. "How is it up there?"

The General gestured to the comm officer, who unplugged his headset and allowed the ship-to-ship chatter to be heard. 

"-thirty degrees starboard," someone said. 

"It's calm so far," General Rieekan told her. "The CTC ships are approaching atmo. That's all they see."

"Hey," another voice called. "How does an Imp with a stutter say the alphabet?"

There was a staticky groan in answer. 

"A-B-C-T-C-T-C," the joker sang.

"Are they alert?" Leia asked General Rieekan sharply as a few howled like gundarks.

He chuckled. "They're like this all the time."

"Quit it," a soft, uncommanding voice demanded. 

"You said it, Boss," someone else said. "That joke should not have been said out loud."

"Or thought of," another put in.

"Have some respect," the soft voice said, and Leia's eyes did something odd. They flashed, or rolled, or widened; she couldn't say but the voice triggered a response. 

"Get it, Rogue One? A-B-C-T-"

"I'm sorry I got it, Janson. Now stay sharp."

"Always am, Boss."

"Who is Rogue One?" Leia asked General Rieekan. 

"Squad Leader," the general answered. He checked a screen. "Commander Skywalker is his name." He watched Leia smile. "Do you know him?"

She couldn't stop smiling. "I do," she said. 

"Here they come," someone warned.

Leia held her breath, the same tension ridiculously filling her as when the Death Star was seconds away.

"Buteral," Rogue One- Luke- informed; oh, how wonderful, Leia thought. He sounded like Luke but he also sounded... official. "Buteral, two ships approaching. One, large freighter class and the other passenger class."

"I like their brand," someone commented. "A star field."

General Rieekan was about to answer Rogue One, but Leia touched his arm and he passed her the mic with  that sad smile.

"Acknowledged, Rogue Squadron," Leia said into it. "Proceed." She wasn't sure what the correct response was but a quick glance at General Rieekan showed her answer was adequate.

"That ain't no brand," another scoffed. "It's the CTC. Everyone knows it."

"Leia?" Luke called.

"That's what makes it a brand," the first argued.

"Leia, is that you?"

"It's a logo," another said. "Ain't that the word for it? When you see the star field it's the CTC."

"Yes, it's me, Luke. I'm on Buteral."

"A-B-C-"

"Rogue One's got a _gir_ lfrieeeend."

"Boys," Luke warned. "Shut up. We got work to do. Give 'em room and let's see if anyone followed them. Sorry, Buteral," he tossed out, then added, excitement in his voice, "Gods, Leia, I can't wait to see you! I'll get with you later."

Several sang it now. "Rogue Ones' got a girlf-"

"I'll have none of that," Luke told his squadron. "And anyway who says that's a girl?"

Leia laughed lightly. It was funny; funnier still because how many Leias were there not attached to a title in the Alliance? It was definitely a retort Han would throw out, and maybe these men Luke flew with. She was glad to see he was holding his own, but she hoped he hadn't lost the qualities that made him Luke.

"Now, ship to ship disabled," Luke continued.  "I'm serious now. Make sure the Empire doesn't slip in."

General Rieekan was looking at Leia, whose smile had grown softer. "With a name like that, he's not Alderaani," he observed.

"He was on the Death Star with me," she told him. "He came with General Kenobi."

"Oh," something was dawning over Rieekan's face, "is he the one-"

"Yes," Leia said, though she didn't know to which rumor Rieekan was referring. The General was installed after the Battle of Yavin. Had he heard about the one who blew up the Death Star? Or the one with the Force? 

The CTC had arrived with its response crew. That was the second factor, after Luke's unexpected appearance. The CTC were a group of beings trained for disaster, able to feel the compassion and see the need to help, but at the same time able to separate themselves from it. Alderaan had contributed to it at times of natural disaster or refugee crisis. It was a model Leia admired. 

The landing occurred uneventfully, to everyone's relief, though General Rieekan asked for the continued presence of- this was for Leia's benefit, she knew- Rogue Squadron, just in case.

Rieekan did turn away the freighter and the heavy equipment loaded in it, because there was no place on Buteral to land it, much less a need for it, but he allowed the medical team and the social workers. They brought water and ration bars too, which went out on the snack bar since the increased personnel taxed the provisions of the Alliance. The passenger shuttle lifted off quickly to join the Calamari cruisers in orbit and wait for the mission to be done. 

Emperor Palpatine was quoted in the holo press. Typically, he dismissed the CTC's efforts. "What is left of Alderaan will be absorbed into the Empire. They will see there was no reason for a queen while I am their Emperor."

This, the last of the elements that built her idea, had a powerful effect on Leia. She was so agitated by the comments that she couldn't work at all, not even add to her list of names. She appeared unscheduled at Dr. Renzatl's office and told her about it. Asked if the doctor was aware of it, summarized it, ranted and paced, her arms gesturing angrily.

"I'm ready to propose a mission to Imperial City for his assassination," she said for the third time. "They won't do it, of course. It's disgusting. It's vile. I see his face and all I do is hate. It was his Death Star!"

"It was," Dr. Renzatl agreed quietly. "Your Highness, you've been here..." she checked the chrono, "near twenty minutes and you haven't sat down yet. You've mentioned the Emperor's face four times and the Death Star six."

Leia stopped her pacing. She felt transparent. She stood and panted, listening for the echo of her words, and horrified, saw Dr. Renzatl's scratch counts were not invented. Too, she knew whatever else she did after leaving the office, she would still rail against the Emperor. 

"I do have a suggestion," Dr. Renzatl was saying. "Something a little different than we've done before." The doctor paused,  choosing her words carefully. "Now then. Would you agree, that sometimes when you are with me talking, you hold back a little?"

Leia flinched. "I assure you, I participate-"

Dr. Renzatl held up a hand with a smile. "You do. And you work hard. The mind wants to protect itself, Your Highness, that is all, and this is not easy." She got up and circled around her desk, leaning against it. Leia had still not sat and now they were at eye level. 

"It's perfectly natural. I want you to do something you might find difficult, though it is a different approach only for me. You are a strong woman and a constant leader. Since that is your identity you bring that to this office; I imagine a Princess didn't reveal much personally even in the happiest of times."

Leia hated when Dr. Renzatl made observations like that. They made her feel so... formed. Lonely. 

"What I am saying is sometimes when you get close to something, you skirt away. Besides the natural tendency for the mind to defend itself, and therefor to not admit, your training prevents you from even revealing. I want for you to allow yourself to get close to it in a setting where you are comfortable and unchallenged, where you might find yourself more willing to edge closer, so to speak."

Leia spoke slowly. "What do you mean? Like, in a bath? Go under hypnosis?" She was wary. 

 "Not quite." The doctor smiled again. "When we talk, we return to the Death Star quite a bit."

"Yes," Leia frowned. "It was where everything happened."

"Yes. It was. You have told me all about your rescue. And Darth Vader. You worry that it changed you, that it defined you."

Leia barely nodded. It was all true. Gods, what was it, barely a month now, and she felt so naive.

"But we haven't reached the point yet of how, of what. I think it's time we did," Dr. Renzatl was gentle but firm. "I think, judging by- You had a very strong reaction to Palpatine's statement."

"Yes," Leia admitted. Anger flared like a lit match. She started up again. "Because he-"

Dr. Renzatl stopped her. "That you recognize the reaction as a symptom is intelligent. You were right to come here and I'm glad you did.

But, you are picking at the symptom. Do you see? Nothing today has helped dissipate the anger or the despair. If anything, it grows."

"Then..." Leia frowned, "what?" 

"I haven't asked you to do this yet, but I think we have come to it. I want you to revisit the Death Star. Your experience, in its entirety."

Leia's shoulders retreated. 

"Not now, not with me. With yourself. All of it. Not just when you were beating Darth Vader or rescuing Commander Skywalker and Captain Solo." Dr. Renzatl paused. "You could tell it to yourself in the bath, if you like. To the sea, because I know you value its wild power. If you have someone you value as a friend."

Dr. Renzatl watched Leia carefully. "Start passively," she coached, "as a series of events that you merely report. When you come to some emotion, and you start to backtrack, start again. All I ask is that you are aware of when you backtrack, and I think you have learned to recognize that."

"I don't see..."

"You're backtracking," Dr. Renzatl said with a smile.

Still wary, but Leia half-smiled, for it was nice someone knew her so well. "When?" she asked.

"Whenever you are ready. And it's not contingent on anything else we talk about. You don't have to skip our regular times."

"All right," Leia begrudgingly agreed. All she knew when she left the doctor's office was that she felt deflated. Not a good feeling, but at least not consumed by anger. Still, she couldn't work. She sat at her desk, the fingers of one hand playing with her lips, staring out the window. 

 

* * *

"I wish I could  _see_ you," Luke complained, his voice through the comm a little tinny sounding.

"Land your X-Wing," Leia suggested. "There's a space on the landing pad for one ship. Although, I hear a supply freighter is due in, so it can only be a visit."

"That's fine. I'll have duty. But I'm off now. Think I can clear the use of an Alliance craft for personal needs? And I just have two hours," he added morosely.

"Make it about duty," Leia suggested. "You're a commander. Tell them you have info for Rieekan and comm is too risky."

"I guess," Luke said. "That's sneaky. Have you seen Han or something?"

Leia laughed. "Just come," she said.

She took a big breath when she disconnected. Happy to see him, nervous too. Luke was on the Death Star with her.  

* * *

Buteral wasn't armed. Now that the CTC was here, it was defended, and though it was part of the Alliance, it wasn't a base. More a satellite office of a department. They weren't hidden. Communications with the rest of the Alliance went through Rieekan first, and were coded. The rest was open. 

Leia was finally using her computer, and as she worked she let the sound of the sea coming in through the open window fortify her. She had a protocol droid place the entry level calls. There was no getting through to the highest levels directly, and the Princess Leia of old would never have made such a call herself, not even in the happiest of times. 

Finally, she was through to the Chair of the IDIT, the Imperial Deposits InsuranceTrust, or Idiot as many liked to call it.

She felt like ice flowed in her blood, so different from how Palpatine's statement made her feel. She had him now. Not just for Alderaan, but for the Death Star. 

"There's nothing to discuss, Chairman Izdronski," Leia said coolly. "The Bank of Alderaan was part of the Imperial Banking System. It was a member of the IDIT."

"Yes, but-"

Leia was frank. It didn't bother her to say it. "The bank is failed. By Emperor Palpatine's own action."

"The corporate headquarters for the Bank of Alderaan is in Imperial City," the chairman blustered. "As far as I know, it is open. I could go there now."

"And what? Open an account?" The Bank of Alderaan's monies are mainly invested in Alderaan. From money obtained from her citizens. The operating system of accounts for the bank was on Alderaan. And Alderaan no longer exists. Therefore, the Bank of Alderaan is failed."

"Princess Leia-"

"Are you telling me that when a citizen of Alderaan- there are a great number living in Imperial City who most likely banked with the Bank of Alderaan-" Leia broke off a moment, for she was certain it had to have happened already. It had been near a month. Surely, they would need to pay a bill, buy some food.

"What are they told?" she snapped. "Have you bought their silence?"

She could hear the chairman breathing on the other end of the comm call. 

"There are citizens of Alderaan alive, Chairman, who have money invested in their bank, which, through the actions of the government under which they live, has been destroyed. This same government has a trust in place to maintain the financial stability of its citizens should a bank fail. Therefore, as established by the IDIC, of which you are chair,  you owe the citizens of Alderaan the amount they owned and allowed to be invested with the Imperial Banking System."

The chairman got nasty. "If the records are destroyed the citizens can't prove what they had."

"I'm sure many have statements delivered through the holoweb." Leia brought in the cold, rank air of Buteral through her nostrils. "Mark my words, Chairman. The Empire will pay."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	34. Renaissance, II

Luke looked almost as he had when she last saw him. That orange flight suit. He shook his hair free when he took the helmet off, and handed it to a tech. She wondered as he bounded down the ladder how he got away with his hair- it was longer than it should be. And apparently the twin suns of Tatooine bleached it, for she remembered him as being much blonder. His hair had darkened.

But he didn't gape as he had on Yavin, his eyes wide and amazed. He wasn't the same youth he was on the Death Star, and Leia found herself expecting that innocence, but it was gone. He did say, after releasing her from a natural hug, "Man, what is this place?"

"Low tide right now," Leia told him and laughed as he was pinching his nose against the smell. "It was dark when I landed. Do the mountains continue all over the submoon?"

Luke was peeling off his flight suit. "Yeah," he told her. Underneath he wore a dull green shirt with short sleeves, and the regulation pants. "There's a cluster at a pole. Like that's where they started. It's cold," he mentioned suddenly. "But the guys tell me I say everywhere is cold."

"It's not that bad," Leia smiled. "I can probably round up a jacket for you."

"I'll be all right. It's not _that_ cold." He let her take the lead and they started for the durowood bridge. She waited as he drifted toward the railing, hovering to take a lingering look at the muck. He returned to her, remarking only, "The galaxy is an amazing thing."

"It is," Leia agreed, and thought of Alderaan. Never being off his homeworld taught Luke that. Leia learned it when she lost hers.

Except... wasn't the perspective off? Standing on the bridge of the Death Star, looking out at planets, moons, and stars, _that's_ where one could barely grasp the... the untouchableness, the beyondness of the galaxy. The timelessness. A god's eye view. Tarkin hadn't. Luke looked down on some snails crawling in muck and he understood, but Tarkin looked out and gave the order to fire.

"Have you seen much war?" Leia asked as they walked.

Luke made a noise. "The back end. The Empire might make a show of gearing up at one system, so Dodonna sends us out, but the Empire hits another. So we show up for clean-up. Palpatine must have a plan, because he sure could end us if he wanted to."

Leia frowned. "We're scattered. He'd have to find us all first."

"There's pilots," Luke went on, "just not enough ships. I think, actually, that's what stops him." He cocked his head, serious but a little playful. "I got a theory. Want to hear it?"

Leia smiled. Luke had been all questions after the Death Star. "What's your theory?"

"It's the up-from-the-ground thing. What do you call that?"

Leia hazarded a guess. "A grass roots movement?"

"That's it," Luke nodded. "There's been an upsurge in enlistments since the Death Star. It's the beings. The beings who feel the burden of war. The systems too, but none of them want to become the next Alderaan, you know? Wedge says they are dancing the Corellian Blade, whatever that is."

"Oh, that's an old folk dance." Leia had seen it performed several times. "It's from back when they fought with swords. The dancer's feet stay on the narrow blade. It's actually very technical."

"What sense is it to dance on your weapon?" Luke almost scoffed. "Seems it's better in your hand."

"Something about how the weapon is forged?" Leia only dimly knew the history of the dance. "That's what it's about, if I remember correctly. Soft, hot metal and quick, high steps so you don't burn your feet. The dancer was both the warrior and smith, and he added his skill and prowess, and hoped for victory."

The cultural relevance of symbolic dance was obviously lost on Luke. He moved on. "Well, it's why we have more beings than we do ships. It's the beings that are joining; individuals rather than worlds declaring war, and that's hard to stop, don't you think? Palpatine can't pinpoint the spread of talk. Beings want peace, but they don't trust him to bring it."

"Did you know," Leia ventured very carefully, "my father, as both Alderaani and Senator, was torn. Alderaan has war in her history, of course, but the Recent Experiment, our peace- a queen named it that three hundred years ago- has lasted for centuries. My father didn't want war, but he witnessed the fall of the Old Republic. The Purge of the Jedi, too," Leia added thoughtfully, if that would help her defend her father to Luke. "He knew Palpatine," she reminded Luke. "They served in the Senate together. And he came to see Palpatine as genuinely evil."

"Genuinely crazy," Luke said.

Leia shook her head against Luke's childish statement. "That's what convinced him the Emperor should be removed from power, I think. The attack against the Jedi. It was vicious and unnecessary. And he would have done it without war, if he could. The bombing of Corellia was his last straw.

"It strikes me..." Leia went on thoughtfully. "It hurts to say it, but I'm grateful the irony is there for Palpatine to see." Leia paused. "...Alderaan won," she said softly.

"How?" Luke wondered.

It was a moment before Leia could continue. They were near the steps that led from the bridge, and Leia reached out and fingered a vine growing from the edge of the mountain, keeping her from turning toward Luke. "If the beings will see an end to the war so there is no more war... Our peaceful ways," she smiled sadly. "They continue."

"Something else will continue out of this, Leia," Luke said. He was uncomfortable but trying to be soothing. "You've got to believe that."

"How?" To her own ears, Leia sounded bitterly resigned and instantly regretted speaking.

"I'm not sure," Luke said honestly. He looked around in the fading light at the construction. "You've all had a... a change thrust on you." His chin gestured at a darkened platform, and she knew he meant the refugees. "Change isn't the right word. I know you don't want to think of it like that, but-"

"It's true, anyway."

Luke nodded at her soft statement. "- there's been a change. And. It's hard to see from here, in the middle of it, but... It's not over. It's not done."

"Still changing."

"Yeah."

"I wonder how you know when it's done."

"I don't know," Luke said. "Maybe never."

Leia shifted the conversation. She pointed out the large platform built around two narrow humps of mountain. "They lopped off the top of those two mountains. See? And set durocrete surrounding them. I think Riekkan said it's almost three acres. There'll be a courtyard, and a recreation area."

"They've seen war," Luke said of the refugees. "Without having seen war. Are you ready?"

Leia smiled bravely. "We've all been working hard," she said. "And they have to be brought as soon as possible."

Luke's eyes continued to trace the bridges that connected the narrow mountains. "Some will like it," he said wisely, "and some won't." He looked at Leia frankly. "Humans are funny like that. We can have all kinds of reactions."

It was a curious thing to say, and Leia didn't know how to answer Luke. To her, any Alderaani reaction would be toward the Alliance, as if they had lost all free will because their planet was destroyed. Luke was giving them credit for being individuals. In all the trauma, it was a generosity she had forgotten. It was freeing to have it again.

They climbed the steps up to the entryway. Inside, the conference room off the snack counter was available. Leia indicated he could take some food if he was hungry. He grabbed a napkin and two muffins, now a rare commodity on Buteral since their numbers had grown and a muffin was everyone's favorite. Major Klander would bemoan the decrease in number, Leia knew. Luke also grabbed a container of water, and she smiled to see him read the label carefully.

They settled around the table. Leia sat with her face cupped between her hands, elbows on the table, and watched Luke while he ate. There was a comfortable silence between them.

"It's about time we saw each other again," Luke said when one was finished, nodding to the napkin. "It's..." he thought, "right."

Leia laughed at him. "I don't think it's a coincidence, Luke. We're both in the Alliance."

"Yeah, but we haven't been together. We should be, just because of what we went through on the Death Star. There aren't many around who can say that. Right? Just you and me, and Han and Chewie, and Darth Vader, I guess, if we're going to look at both sides."

"Do you still have all those questions?" Leia asked.

Luke drank water. "Haven't answered a damn one. Got a new one: why is Darth Vader looking so hard for me?"

"Is he?"

"Ramped up his efforts. Gets in the way of Rogue Squadron. Dodonna won't send us in to the really hotbeds. 'Cause of me."

"Hmm," Leia frowned. "I wonder why?"

"Hell bent on revenge, I think," Luke declared. "Why else?"

Leia considered. It was possible, but it didn't feel right. Luke may have been the one to blow up the Death Star, but she was the one who obtained the stolen plans. It seemed Vader should include her, but he didn't. "I don't know," she said. "Unless that's what the Emperor ordered him. I don't think he really cared for the Death Star."

"He defended it! Flew in the trenches after us!" Luke said, the memory of the battle still warm. "Isn't that why you were arrested in the first place?"

Leia nodded, speaking softly. "He was to retrieve the plans from me. But. When it was used. He was there. And he said nothing. I don't think he approved of the idea of the Death Star, let alone the actual thing."

"Huh," Luke said, and lapsed into thought. "Sometimes," he began after a moment, "I have to remind myself: _Did we really_ \- Right?" He looked at her for confirmation. "Or if I'm by myself, doing something normal, I'll think, _I was on the Death Star._ "

"You think about it?" Leia moved her hands behind her neck. They felt warm.

"All the time. And everything that led up to it or followed it. You?"

"What do you think about?"

Luke pressed on a crumb of the muffin with his finger and captured it. "Ben, mostly. And Vader."

"Mm," Leia said.

"How close I came."

"Close to dying? or close to-"

"Close to realizing who I was." Luke tore the second muffin in half and started to eat it.

Leia's neck was starting to ache from the pressure of her hands. She moved one palm to her jaw and let her face rest in it. The Death Star had granted Luke a purpose, or an identity he desired, she reflected. But then, she reminded herself, it had cost him his aunt and uncle. And the only lead he had to this new identity.

"Maybe it's because of the Force," Leia suddenly said. "Vader. He saw you with General Kenobi."

"He saw Han, too. And Chewie."

"Yes. But you have a lightsaber. And, I don't know, maybe a Force user can sense it in another?"

"Dodonna told me Vader also tracks down Jedi that escaped the Purge. It's publicized every time one is killed. He told me the Alliance would like to reach them first, but there's been no leads."

"It's taking Vader long enough," Leia said. "The Purge was what, twenty years ago?"

"And he missed Ben," Luke added. "I wonder if he's missed others."

"I think it's obvious he has," Leia said.

Luke seemed to daydream a moment. Then he returned to Leia. "That mission I can understand. A Jedi, even one, is a threat. But what could he want with me? I'm untrained. And without Ben, it looks like I'll stay that way."

Luke was frustrated. That was easy to see. He fell into his own thoughts, grumbling and discontent, and Leia regarded him. All the things he had said since his landing, still immature and self-involved, but also full of wisdom; flashes of sagacity that couldn't have been earned by a twenty year old farmer.

"Train yourself," Leia said. It wasn't a suggestion.

Luke sniffed. "How?"

"You tell me I have to believe in the continued life of Alderaan, but you won't believe in yourself?"

"It's differ-"

"No. It's not, Luke. You have the Force. You can feel it. You used it! You turned off your targeting scope, remember?"

Luke squirmed. "I thought I heard Ben."

"And why would you do that?" Leia was becoming impatient with Luke's resistance. "How would you hear him? Was he in the cockpit with you? Sitting on your lap?" Leia challenged, and felt a small measure of victory as Luke smiled.

He finally recognized his excuses and laughed lightly. "I just... I heard his voice," Luke said.

"General Kenobi was dead, Luke," Leia reminded him gently. "What you heard was the Force, in the form of his voice."

"I heard it before, too."

"Listen for him, then. And you can train yourself."

"On the Death Star, after... after it happened, he told me to run."

"When everyone was shooting at us? You heard him?"

Luke nodded at the table, the sad smile of memory on his lips. "You and Han were yelling at me. The Falcon powered up. Blaster bolts were everywhere. It was noisy. And Ben said, Run, Luke."

He hadn't told anyone else, Leia was sure. And he was saying it now, not just to inform her, but to convince himself.

"It was good advice," Leia said softly, and covered his hand briefly with her own. "You gave me good advice earlier. You're smart. Don't wait for something to happen. Kenobi gave you your first steps. Don't toddle. Run." She sat back against her seat. "Because what else can you do?"

Luke nodded. "Nothing," he said. "Die," he added with a smile.

"Right." Leia did not smile. She looked out the window and then at her chrono. It confirmed what she saw, or didn't see, out the dark window. "Tide's rush is soon. Let's go outside. You should see it."

Luke edged along the snack counter. "You have better food than us. What's this?" He held up a soft, dark-colored orb with bright speckles.

"Jokla fruit," Leia answered.

"Is it good?"

Leia was patting the headlamp attached to her belt to be sure she carried it, though she knew she did. "It's juicy."

Luke pocketed the fruit. "I'll try it," and followed her outside.

She knew he had stopped in his tracks. Turning to face him, the light wasn't enough to show her he had blue eyes, and his voice was weak against the roar of the sea. He called her name.

Amused, Leia walked back and grabbed his wrist. Luke had dropped into a fighter's stance, weight planted firmly over his thighs, knees bent. He acted like the noise was going to cause the ground beneath his feet to crumble. She pointed past the bridge so he could see the rapidly diminishing line of horizon and spoke into his ear. "Tide's rush," she said.

"I can't see anything," he shouted.

"It won't be light for another twenty hours," she yelled back.

"I can't hear, either!"

"Put this on." Leia pressed her headlamp into his hands and waited for Luke to activate the beam. He walked to the railing, swiveling his head down and up, side to side.

She always left her office at Tide's rush. The darkness didn't bother her, and the roar of the rushing waters calmed quickly, though the water remained high and in constant motion.

She sat on the bridge as she had her first night, swinging her legs over the edge. Luke joined her.

"What are we doing?" he asked loudly.

"Waiting," she answered into his ear, and he didn't try to talk anymore. It would be a few minutes, Leia knew. The swell of the water and the darkness was sudden, though it must have spent the light time gathering force.

In between the rhythm of the waves, conversation would be possible. "Do you have time?" Leia asked.

"Yeah," Luke checked his chrono. "It's like it's own entity," he said of the water. "Or character. I know there's lots of things that make up the sea, but it seems separate from them."

"Like the galaxy," Leia said. "All the life within but it's heedless."

"Maybe." Luke pulled out the piece of fruit, and examined it in the beam of the headlamp. "Why is the food better here?" he wondered.

"I suppose out of consideration for the refugees," Leia said, but it occurred to her she didn't really know, or couldn't compare it to anything. "General Rieekan is Alderaani," she added, though that too was no explanation. "Since the CTC arrived, supplies have gotten low quickly. I hope that delivery arrives before the first shuttle."

"I think it's Han," Luke said, taking a bite of fruit.

Leia focused on the spot of light on the water from Luke's headlamp, and for a second she stopped breathing. "What?"

Luke was examining the jokla, turning his hand in different directions. "The _Falcon_ is making this run. Pretty sure." He wiped juice from his chin with the back of his hand.

"You're just mentioning this now?" Leia said.

Luke grinned. "I actually couldn't wait to tell you."

"Jerk," Leia told him. "You've seen him?"

Luke waited until a wave receded. "Yeah," he said, as if it were natural. "He's around some. Leaves, comes back. Ship's got a few more dents."

There was so much information, and so little, that Leia was rendered speechless. She couldn't decide which angle to tackle. "He- leaves?" she managed.

"And comes back," Luke repeated. He opened the water canister. "He thinks about it too."

The air had grown quieter. The sea was at full height. Waves crashed against the shoal on the other end of the bridge, and from the unfocused beam of light Leia could discern swells of water in front of them.

"Thinks about what?" she asked.

"The Death Star."

"Oh." Leia rubbed her thighs. The notion was strangely appealing to her. "I wonder what he thinks."

Luke lowered the water from his lips. "He's not going to show what he thinks. Not him. But he sticks around. That's how I know."

"Has he joined?"

"No. I heard he was asked. He's still worried about that debt."

"He hasn't paid it off?" Leia sniffed in mild disbelief. Still, a gladness bobbed about in her to hear the news that Han was still around.

"No. I think it's bigger than he lets on."

"Seems foolish not to focus on that," Leia said.

"I told you. It's the Death Star. It hasn't let me go."

"So you think it won't let go of him," Leia observed. "He's different than you, Luke. An outlaw. It was probably just a job to him."

"It was a hard job," Luke said stubbornly.

Leia smiled. She felt like smiling. She didn't want to think about what she had done to earn the punishment of Alderaan, but it did seem something conspired to give her Luke and Han, and at another moment when she needed them.

"So what about the Death Star would not let him go?" she asked teasingly. She wanted to enjoy Luke's visit, share some lightness. "Getting captured in the first place?"

Luke smiled too, enjoying her sly tone. "The tractor beam."

"Not enough reward?"

"How clean and shiny the place was. No dents."

Luke was catching on, and Leia chuckled. "Wearing stormtrooper armor," she proposed.

"The dianoga. _That_ thing truly did not let me go."

"The whole trash compactor. The Death Star showed him how his life has been a pattern of jumping into a pile of garbage."

Luke liked that one. He laughed appreciatively, but the game faded quickly. He returned to his fruit and he and Leia watched the motion of the water. It swayed, she thought, up then down, like a mother rocking an infant.

"So what do you think about?" Luke finally said.

"Me?"

"On the Death Star."

"I think about a lot of things," Leia hedged.

"You have a lot, I suppose," Luke reasoned.

"I think about you," she began, which was not a lie, "and Han. I think about-" Leia stopped. Her father had not been on the Death Star with her. Nor her maidens. As far as she knew. Neither Tarkin nor Vader had bothered to mention what happened to those aboard the _Tantive IV_. And if any were brought to the Death Star as she had been, then...

"Vader?" Luke suggested.

"No." She paused. "Alderaan." Luke had been nothing but honest with her. He deserved the same.

"Of course," Luke said.

"Tarkin."

"Tarkin?" Luke frowned. "I don't..."

"The Moff in charge. I think how it's unfair I didn't get a chance to kill him."

Luke was taken aback. "Oh," he said. "I didn't realize-" He shifted his position on the hard durowood. "Is that what we were- Through the corridors? You were looking-" Luke was growing more and more confused or troubled. "Was that part of your mission?"

Leia clasped her hands and placed them composedly in her lap. "No," she said. "Just the plans. But he's the one who ordered course to Alderaan. He's the one who threatened it if I didn't name the Rebellion location."

"A different form of torture," Luke said, and again Leia's heart stopped a moment. "An intense one. An unfair one."

"He said I was far too trusting." The familiar shame and anger rose in Leia and her hands became fists. "And I want to shoot him and wipe that superior smile off his face."

"You want revenge," Luke understood. "It did get wiped off. He was on the Death Star? At the end?"

"Yes. Alright," Leia relented, "if I can't shoot him, I want to have been able to see the moment he realized he was wrong."

"Yes," Luke agreed. "That would be satisfying. Same as for the Emperor, right?"

"That will also be a fine moment," Leia nodded.

"And Vader," Luke continued. "Once I'm not so terrified of him-" Leia smiled again. "- I want... I don't know. Not revenge, necessarily. Not for Ben. Because Ben knew what he was doing. Except, when I think of Aunt Beru, I do want revenge. But, that's more vague. What I want," and he gazed out at the sea, "is, like you said. I want a moment of realization. Something to show how wrong he was."

What a soul Luke had, Leia thought.

"I want... not the Death Star," Luke was saying. "Because we had that, that kind of ending-"

"And it was the wrong one," Leia concluded for him.

"It was," Luke said.

"It didn't solve as much as we expected." Leia was remembering the moment of victory, the relief she'd felt.

"Or... comfort. It needed to be destroyed, but not for you or for me. For everyone else."

"Of course."

"But for me it felt kind of hollow." Luke started to turn his face to Leia's but remembered the headlamp and stopped. "Nothing can make you feel better, can it?" he seemed to realize.

Leia curved her back, sitting deeper into her rear. She shook her head with a rueful smile. "Thanks, Luke. I'll just run up to Dr. Renzatl and tell her, 'never mind, there's no cure.'"

"Dr.-?"

"Renzatl. From the CBA."

"Oh, 'after the battle, see Renzatl' doctor. She's the one I talked to, I think. Is she here?"

"Yes."

"Maybe I'll see her if we're around longer. I liked talking to her."

Leia's brows rose. "You did?"

"I just did it once," Luke reacted to her tone of surprise and retreated a bit. "But it helped me."

"How?" Leia asked with interest.

"I was feeling kind of like a death magnet-"

Leia felt so fond of Luke. "A death magnet?" Really, the only quality time she spent with him was on the _Falcon_ after they escaped the Death Star, but she felt closer to him than she had her maidens.

Luke lowered his head modestly. "So high, and so low," he said. "She- kinda gave me a headlamp." He seemed very pleased with his analogy and tapped the band on his forehead. "Learn how to walk without tripping over things I can't see. And I learned, just from that one time, that out of all this, Ben, and my father, and the Death Star, and Biggs, was that you're the one I still have. You and Han. And Chewie. And that I want to continue to have."

"Oh." Again, something inside Leia seemed to drum. "I'm supposed to talk about the Death Star," she told Luke.

"Well, tell her you're doing it with me." Luke reached up to deactivate the lamp and Leia caught the beginning of a grin before he face was swallowed in the darkness.

His soft voice seemed to come from nowhere. "The thing is, Leia, if you could choose now between me and Alderaan you'd pick Alderaan. Whereas me... I'd pick you. And not because I don't love my aunt and uncle. Because I feel like," Luke paused to grapple with his thoughts, "because yours is so... I don't know. Fateful? Mine is... Life is rough, you know? People die. Not always like the way my aunt and uncle did, but some do. It's... I don't mean to sound glib. It's unfair, and it's awful but it happens. I feel like I'm just one of those people terrible things happen to."

"Luke," Leia protested.

"There was a kid in my class." Words were pouring from Luke. "He- disappeared one day and everyone figured it was the Sand People. But then they found him, his body, in town, and it turned out he'd been snatched, by, well, they never found out who. And he was murdered. And when we all thought Sand People it was bad, but it was... we understood. The Sand People, we share the desert with them. They have their side of the story, their reasons. It doesn't make sense to us, but it does to them. When it turned out to be something else, someone else... well, it shook us, all of us. My uncle didn't let me go out on my own after it until I got my speeder license. I don't think his parents ever recovered. But you, you're more than that.

"Tarkin," Luke said, "he did that to Alderaan. I said he was torturing you, and he was. But he's like that unknown murderer on Tatooine. There's no good _why_ , there's no good reason."

Leia was following Luke's words intently. Sometimes she found salvation and sometimes she found blame. "The reason was to end the Rebellion," she said softly.

"No," Luke contradicted her. "Because the Rebellion was not on Alderaan. He just wanted to use the Death Star."

His words hung in the air, so simple but so grave. They floated atop the water, and Leia directed them to sink, settling on the seabed, so she would have them later.

"If you ask me," Luke continued, "Tarkin was the one a bit too trusting. Putting his faith in the Death Star."

He stood. "My hands are sticky from jokla juice. I need to wash before I climb back in the X-Wing." He turned on the headlamp again. "Which way? Kriff, I am totally disoriented."

Leia clambered to her feet and gave Luke a tight hug. Luke talked in a stream of ideas and feelings, because it was easiest for him. A hug came from Leia, as a gift, from a Princess perhaps, but there was safety in action.

"Have you named the X-Wing?" she asked Luke before he could question the motives behind her hug. "I know some do that."

"Yeah," he said, and instead of just telling her, he launched into a lengthy introduction to each of the Rogue pilots. He told her how they petitioned to paint their airships with their mark, how Dodonna denied them, and listed not only his but each name a pilot chose. His own, he told her when he finally reached the end of his story, adding that the rest of the squadron teased him ceaselessly but good-naturedly because his design wasn't a lovely female, was _Homestead_.


End file.
